


sing me baby home

by KarenaWilliams (ryvrr)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: All warnings that pertain to the Bluebeard legend, Alternate Universe - Bluebeard Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, F/M, Heavy Angst, More warnings might be added later, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sad Jefferson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 47,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryvrr/pseuds/KarenaWilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all fairy tales start good or end happy, but sometimes you have to make do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the story so far

**Author's Note:**

> There's probably a lot of notes/warnings that should go with this story. Here's a brief list of them: murder, brief descriptions of severed limbs/dead bodies, pools of blood, general horror of finding out your husband-to-be murdered his six previous wives, later warnings for when the reader is in Storybrooke and is trapped in a loveless, unknowing relationship with said murderer. Expect a lot of sad Jefferson in the second chapter. Like, a lot. I'm so sorry, Jefferson, but you hurt so good.
> 
> I made a playlist for this story that can be found [here](http://8tracks.com/karenawilliams/bluebeard-s-bride)! It's a mix of songs pertaining to Bluebeard and ones that pertain to Jefferson. They're songs that I listen to while I'm writing these chapters.
> 
> This entire story is already outlined, so there will be an ending in sight. I'm posting this now because if I look at it anymore I'm going to vomit more awful words onto it. I'll probably self-beta it a little over the next few days before I start on the second chapter. The title for this is from "Hummed Low" by Odessa. I just really love that song! It's on the playlist if you listen to it.
> 
> I have a regency AU planned for Jefferson once I've finished writing this story. If you ever feel like yelling at me for the feels I've given you or any plots I might have, you can find my fanfiction tumblr [here](http://karenawilliams-sucka.tumblr.com) or even my [main tumblr](http://capta1nstucky.tumblr.com).
> 
> If you comment on this, I promise you I will fall all over myself to respond to you as quickly as I can. No lie. I get super excited when people actually want to talk to me about my writing!! Okay, without further ado, PLEASE ENJOY THIS MONSTER FIC.

“I don’t want to marry him!”

“Father says it’s to be you, not _me_ ,” your sister replied. The look she had on was one of sympathy, but you could see the relief hidden just behind her eyes. “I’m sorry, sister, but father has already declared it. He’s promised your hand in marriage to Bluebeard. There’s no way to get out of it.” 

You collapsed upon your bed while holding onto one of the dresses you’d been studying earlier. It had gotten a bit shabby around the edges and you’d been thinking about throwing it out. Now your thoughts were far from the previous worries; instead you were consumed with thoughts about your pending nuptials. Your sister came forward to sit beside you and placed a hand on your knee. You looked up to find her gaze on you and she looked equally as miserable. 

“I wish neither of us had to do it,” she told you honestly. “Bluebeard… there’s just something wrong about him, I think. I know you feel the same, sister.” 

You sighed and allowed the material of the dress to slip through your fingers. “You’re right, Hester,” you agreed quietly, your voice hushed as if the walls might have ears now. You wouldn’t put it past a servant to hear you speak of your now fiance and to hurry off to spread the gossip. “He’s gone through six wives in not even as many years.” You clasped your hands together in your lap and stared off into the distance, your mind elsewhere. You could remember all the stories that had been whispered about Bluebeard over the years, about how many wives he went through and how each one mysteriously vanished. He always claimed they had died of unknown causes and been buried somewhere he refused to reveal. Now that you were faced with marriage to the man, you had begun to believe the whispers about the foul play that had to be involved. 

“Perhaps we’re just worrying over nothing,” Hester said and attempted to laugh lightly, but it came out forced. Her hands reached out to clasp your own and she threaded your fingers together. You looked up to find her staring intently at you, her mouth quirked up at the corners. “Perhaps he’s actually rather decent. You know how evil people gossip, sister. We just might not understand him and his situation.” 

“If that’s the case,” you said with equal forced cheer, “then I suppose you wouldn’t mind marrying him after all?” 

Your sister’s smile vanished instantly. “I’m afraid he’s quite set on you,” Hester told you in a hushed whisper. Her eyes refused to quite meet yours. “Father didn’t promise you to him right away. At first he promised him our eldest sister Anne, since she’s still unwed, but Bluebeard started asking questions about you. Father thought he meant me at first, but then he spoke of the ribbon you wear in your hair.” Her eyes went to the pretty yellow ribbon woven through your locks, and then her eyes came back to meet your own again. “Once he mentioned that, Father knew exactly of whom he spoke and he told him your name. Bluebeard has his heart set on you now, sister.” 

All hope vanished from your chest. You slowly slid your fingers free of hers and heaved a sigh, before you steeled your nerves and got to your feet. “I will go find Father at once,” you said as you picked up the dress from where it had fallen to the floor. You set it down atop your bed and then began to march toward the door. “I’ll see if he won’t listen to my doubts on this match. He’s never been quite as cold-hearted as other fathers can be,” you assured as you exited your bedroom, with your sister right at your heels. “Perhaps I can persuade him that I shouldn’t marry Bluebeard.” 

“Yes,” your sister hurried to agree. “Yes, you’re right, (Y/N)! Father isn’t cruel. Once he knows that you don’t desire the match, perhaps he will be persuaded to send Bluebeard elsewhere.” There came a yell from further down the hall and the both of you stopped short. Your sister turned fully around to face who had called her name. You twisted around to see a maid hurry forward. “Oh, I forgot! My piano lessons.” 

“Go,” you said as she looked at you worriedly. “I’ll be able to find Father and speak with him on my own. I’ll find you after?” 

She reached out and clutched your hands tightly-- as if she could transfer some of her own strength into you for the conversation to come-- before she nodded. “Find me right away!” she told you, before she turned and headed off down the hall. The maid waited for her and chastised her as your sister got near. You didn’t wait around to see what else would be said, instead you went back to your task at hand. 

You found your father in the library. He was seated behind a large, oaken desk and had his head bent over a stack of parchment. You entered with a light knock on the door, which caused your father to tear his gaze away from his paperwork to look at you. “Ah,” your father murmured as he set down the quill he’d been using to scratch out notes. “Daughter, I thought you would come to seek me out once you’d heard the news.” 

You walked forward and curtsied. “Hester has only just told me the news,” you informed your father. He nodded his head and pursed his lips as he studied you. It was clear he would wait for you to say more. You ventured on with, “I must admit I’m not pleased with the match, father.” 

He sighed heavily as if he had expected as much. “I realize it’s not the most suitable of arrangements for you,” your father said and reached up to take his reading glasses off of his nose. He studied you intently as he set them aside and then steepled his fingers together. “But as the daughter of a well placed lord, we knew for years coming that the chance of you marrying for love is slim. Bluebeard is much older and not what I had pictured for your future husband, but he is a well placed man with many contacts in the world that will benefit our family.” 

You pressed your lips into a firm line and stared hard at the ground instead of at your father. You could already tell where this would go. He wouldn’t listen to you, or to your worries about the match. Your mother-- before she had passed on several years ago-- had warned you that something like this might happen in the future. None of your family would be lucky enough to marry for love, and if they somehow _were_ able to swing it that way, it would be your older brother who got the love match. Yourself and your two sisters would have to make do with whoever your father chose in order to benefit the family. 

“Bluebeard has shown keen interest in you,” your father went on to say. “Out of all the ladies of the land, it was you he set his eyes upon. That should please you, daughter! You’ll make a wonderful bride for him and do our family proud. The dowry, alone, that he promised shall do much for our estate.” 

“Do you not worry about me?” you asked him quietly as you clenched your hands tightly within your dress’s skirts. “Bluebeard has had six brides before he’ll take my hand. Where have these wives gone? What has happened to them?” 

“Tragedy,” your father said and his lips thinned with displeasure. You stared at him with your jaw set as he shook his head at you. “How foolish of you to suspect your husband-to-be of such ill thoughts.” Your father sighed and reached fingers up to rub at the bridge of his nose. He pinched it between his fingers and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again they settled on you and there was a stern expression in them. “We’ll speak no more of this,” your father said. “You will be Bluebeard’s bride. He has agreed to take you-- and your older sister as chaperon-- to stay at his estate while the wedding is prepared. You will wed him in two months time.” 

“Father--” 

“Enough.” Your father’s voice brooked no further arguments. You clenched your hands in your skirts once more and stared over your father’s shoulder. You refused to meet his eye even when he cleared his voice pointedly. “The servants have been told to gather your belongings for you. You’ll leave in the morning. Go speak with your eldest sister Anne, and then make sure to get to bed on time. The journey will be long and tiring tomorrow, daughter.” 

You nodded your head with one quick movement, before you turned and headed toward the door to the library. “ (Y/N),” your father called. It was the first time during the entire conversation he’d used your name. It would probably be the first time he’d used it in years actually. You paused at the door and glanced over your shoulder at him. “You’ll do this family proud to become Bluebeard’s wife. He can do much for us and for you. Don’t bring shame upon us.” You jerked your head one last time before you exited the library. 

It didn’t take you long to head back toward where your bedroom-- and your sisters’-- were. Anne was found waiting in your room already, and she wrung her hands worriedly together when she spotted you. “I’ve only just heard the news,” she told you quietly and came forward to clasp your hands in her own. “If I could take your place, sister, I would. Alas, Bluebeard finds me displeasing to gaze upon for my scarred skin.” She waved a hand at the burns that were on the right side of her face and her lips tilted down in a grimace. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take this burden from you, (Y/N).” 

“Anne, it’s not your fault,” you whispered and clutched her hands tightly in your own. You peered up at her and forced a smile to your lips. It felt tight and fake, but it seemed to put Anne a bit more at ease. You hated when you caused your eldest sister to worry, regardless of whether it was your fault or not. “I know you’d have done this for me if you could, but unfortunately it seems Bluebeard has set his heart’s desire on me. I must soldier on and find the strength to carry out this unpleasant task.” You dropped your voice even lower as you told her, “You don’t mind going to be my chaperon?” 

“Of course not,” Anne hurried to assure you. “I’m glad it’s me and not Hester. She would probably make this transition harder on you. She’s not known for her maturity, sister.” She spoke truly of your twin. Hester would probably have been more burden than relief for you during your chaperoned presence at Bluebeard’s estate. Hester wasn’t known for her patience or understanding. “The servants have already packed your bags,” Anne went on to tell you. “They’re in my room as we speak to get my things ready. Father told you we leave in the morning?” 

“He did,” you responded. “He said it’ll be two months before the marriage takes place, but that I’m to stay with my husband-to-be until that time.” 

Anne’s fingers wove to interlock with your own this time and she gave a tight squeeze. “Perhaps Bluebeard is not as bad as the gossip says?” She didn’t even bother to try to sound hopeful. She just sounded like she was foolishly trying to stick with positive thoughts in case they made the thing you both desired most to come true. “He might be kind and caring. Perhaps his six wives before merely died of natural causes or accidents.” 

“They never found the bodies,” you whispered to her urgently. “If it was natural causes or accidents, then surely there would be bodies to bury? To send home to their families?” Anne pursed her lips and her skin got paler. You sucked in a breath and reminded yourself not to worry Anne needlessly. She was frailer than she appeared. The fire that had scarred her had also weakened her body. The more she grew over the years, the more pained she became with the ills of her vessel. “It’s just my hopelessness speaking, Anne,” you told her quietly. You squeezed her fingers to try and give her some comfort. “Don’t listen to me. I’m just being petulant and trying to find any little thing to mark how wrong this union shall be.” 

Anne gave another tight smile, squeezed your fingers one last time, before she stepped back so she could release you. She headed towards the door. “I will find Hester for you and send her your way. You should be the one to explain that the wedding will take place in two months time.” You nodded your head even though Anne couldn’t see it. Your eldest sister paused at your door and twisted around to stare at you quietly for a few more moments. “I hope you find happiness somehow in your life, (Y/N). I had always hoped-- no, never mind. We shall speak more in the carriage tomorrow.” Then she was gone. 

Your feet crumbled beneath you, but thankfully you fell upon your bed instead of the floor. You stared numbly at your now closed bedroom door and willed the tears away from your eyes. “It’ll be fine,” you whispered to yourself. “I’m just being foolish and childish.” You had known all along that the person you’d end up married to would not be one you’d love. Your father’s position in the land was weakened and he needed to use his daughters as pawns to gain more power. Of course he would marry you to Bluebeard; the man offered riches untold for your hand. 

When you finally slept that night your sleep was troubled and filled with visions of dark corners, the color red spreading across your vision like blood upon the floor. 

  
  


* * *

“Good luck, sister,” Hester told you that morning when the carriage was being brought forward. She reached over to place two kisses on either cheek before she leaned back and clasped your hands in her own. This might be the last time you saw her until you were married. It made a sour feeling curl in your stomach at the thought. “I will keep you in my thoughts and wish for a happy wedding.”

You dipped your head forward in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Hester,” you told her. “I hope to see you at the wedding in two months time.” 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hester told you. She gripped your hands for a few moments more until it was clear you had to move on. Your father was the next you stepped in front of. He peered down at you with a small frown and reached out to clap a hand on your shoulder. 

“Be the lady you were raised to be,” your father told you sternly. “Your future husband expects you to have the decorum and genteelness we taught you to have. Don’t shame the family.” He said the last part low under his breath and your spine straightened with steel as you gave him a coolly polite expression. It hurt you that all these years later and he still had no faith in you. 

“Of course,” you told him. Your father leaned forward to place a chaste kiss to your cheek. For a moment you thought to snub him with a face turned away, but in the end your good manners won out. You wouldn’t do something to cause your father ire at you. Your fate was already out of either of your hands. There was nothing to be done about it now. Your father pulled back a moment later and patted you lightly on your shoulder once more before he took a step back. 

“Your mother would be proud,” your father told you, and you tried not to let the hurt show on your face at the words. Your mother wouldn’t have been proud, but she’d have understood. She’d always said ladies weren’t meant to have happy endings in the real world. She had wanted you to understand what was coming for you in the future. You’d been born to this family as a pawn, and your father had always had the intention of using you for his own gain. 

You dipped into a curtsy for your father before Bluebeard himself appeared at your side. Your eyes swept to him and you schooled your expression into a polite mask. He wasn’t ugly, but he was a bit on the overweight side. His beard was a deep black with blue undertones, probably lending to the nickname everyone referred to him as. He didn’t even go by his true name anymore; he preferred to be called Bluebeard. “Wife to be,” Bluebeard said in a course, deep voice. “We must depart.” 

“Yes,” you said and lifted up your skirts so that you could place a foot on the lowest rung of the carriage. You ignored the hand Bluebeard held out for you, and pretended not to have noticed it. Anne was already seated in the carriage. She hadn’t had to say too many goodbyes, since she would return after the wedding had taken place. She peered at you from across the seat and gave you a wan smile. “Anne,” you greeted as you situated your skirts about you. 

“Sister,” she replied. Bluebeard closed the carriage door and went to mount his horse. He had refused to ride with you or your sister. He’d said he preferred to ride on his horse than to be locked in a carriage. “The lands are pretty on the way to Bluebeard’s estate,” she told you as the carriage jolted and then began to move forward. You ignored the twisting horror that was boiled deep in your gut. If you paid too much attention to it, then you were certain you’d throw up the light breakfast you’d eaten earlier that morning. “Father said we should enjoy them as we travel.” 

“How far is the journey?” you asked her after the silence had stretched awkwardly between you both. Anne had taken her own advice and looked out the tiny window, so she could watch as the lands passed. She turned her (e/c) eyes back on your own when you spoke. A small smile twitched at the edges of her lips. 

“He lives a day’s journey away,” she told you. “I believe we will get there just as the night is setting upon us.” That wasn’t too far away from your family’s lands. “Brother is stationed at the village near where Bluebeard lives. He said he will be there for the next month at least. We might be able to call upon him to visit if you feel up to it in the coming weeks.” 

Hope flared within you before dying down. “Nathaniel is in port?” you asked and tried to contain your excitement. Your older brother Nathaniel was your favorite sibling. He’d always been close to you growing up, and it had killed you when he had joined a crew for a ship and taken to the sea. Anne nodded her head and beamed back at you. “Yes, I’d love if we could go and visit with him.” 

“It would raise our spirits,” Anne agreed. Silence stretched between the both of you again, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. You watched as the land slowly changed into rolling hills and trees in the distance. The quiet soothed you, because it meant you didn’t have to pretend to be as put together as your family wanted you to be. You could allow your thoughts to be filled with visions of your future. 

Several hours passed in mostly silence. Occasionally your sister Anne would speak up about something she saw outside and you’d both peer out of the window together, but otherwise the two of you didn’t speak much. You were too bogged down with depression and unhappiness over the future you could see unfurling before you. You’d always hoped that, somehow, you’d marry for love and have a family with the man you cared deeply for. It chilled you to your bones to think of having a family with Bluebeard. Your stomach felt more and more unsettled the longer you allowed your mind to think on it. 

“We’re almost there,” Anne suddenly piped up with close to sundown. You jolted forward to stare out the window as you passed through the village that his estate was on the outskirts of. Even in the evening there were plenty of people going about their business, and the village looked clean and well kept. It was on the cusp of the sea, so this would be the village your brother was stationed in currently. You smiled a little as you watched families go about their business on the cobblestone streets, before the carriage turned on a road and started going to the outskirts. “Oh, there it is!” Anne whispered to you and pointed a finger to the large castle that could be seen in the distance. 

The estate was huge and sprawling. It was clear from what you could see of it that it was an expensive place. Bluebeard’s wealth was well on display when the wrought iron gates swung open to permit the party to enter. Your sister was mumbling something to you about how beautiful it was, but you had stopped paying attention a bit ago. You were sucked up in your own thoughts as you stared at the expansive area of the castle. There had to be three times as much space here than in your family home, and your family home had been quite large to begin with! 

“Welcome home,” Bluebeard said when he came to open the carriage door once it had stopped. He beamed as he held a hand out to you, and this time you couldn’t ignore it. You placed your hand in it and his fingers curled around it as he helped you to leave the carriage. “Or welcome to your future home once we are wed.” 

“It’s beautiful,” you said since you were at a loss for what else to say. There was no polite way to confide how horrified you were at this place. It was dark and creeping, with vines climbing the corners of the building and windows that glinted in the evening sun. It filled you with a cold, cloying fear as you looked upon it. It was as if your mind wanted to whisper this would be your final resting place. There was no escape from here. You wondered if his previous six wives had felt this at all, or if it was only your imagination that placed these thoughts in your head. 

“I’ve worked hard to make it as lovely as it is today,” Bluebeard told you. He refused to release your hand and instead began to lead you towards the front door. His fingers clutched around your own all the tighter as if to make sure you knew there was no escape. The castle’s doors were thrown open when the two of you were almost there, and the doorsmen held them open so Bluebeard, yourself and your sister Anne could enter. “It’s helped that I’ve managed to amass an even larger fortune that my father had. The money goes straight into my estate and anything else life might need.” 

“It truly shows,” Anne said when you didn’t reply right away. She shot you a pitying look when Bluebeard looked away to address a servant instead. 

“Make sure their rooms are prepared,” Bluebeard said. “I know they will want to retire directly after we dine.” 

“Thank you,” Anne told him. You mimicked her as you expressed your own gratitude. “It has been a very long journey, but it was well spent in your carriage.” 

“You were too kind to send for your own to take us here,” you told him. “Our carriage is not as comfortable as yours.” 

Bluebeard laughed. “I had thought as much,” he told you in a hushed whisper as if he was confiding something secretive to you. “Do not worry, my bride. You will have all that you need while you live here! For as long as that shall be.” Was it just your own fears, or did that sound a bit ominous? You turned to peer up at him, but he had looked away already and you couldn’t read his face. 

Dinner that night was brief. You ate all that was put before you, but it barely registered to you what you had eaten. Your thoughts were going a million miles per hour as your skin crawled. You didn’t like the atmosphere of this castle. Knowledge that you would live here for the rest of Bluebeard’s-- or your own-- life wasn’t seated comfortably within you. Bluebeard bid both you and your sister goodnight before he took his leave. Anne walked quietly up the grand staircase with you to the second floor, where you would be housed for the duration of your sister’s stay before the wedding. 

“This house is mighty fine,” she said as you both followed after the servant who led the way. You didn’t answer. “It’s not as bad as I’ve heard whispered,” she murmured to you as the servant showed which room Anne would be staying in. 

“Your room is further down this hall,” the servant said when you stopped and appeared torn between following your sister into her room, or going to your own. “If you would follow me, Lady (Y/N)?” It seemed you had no real choice in the matter. You bid Anne goodnight before trudging along behind the servant. His face was lined and creased, and his eyes were cold. He didn’t make any sort of conversation with you. You thought for a moment you might try to speak with him anyway, but when you cleared your throat as if to speak he shot you a nasty look. “Here you are,” he said as he opened up a room at the farthest part of the hall. “Goodnight.” He turned and left before you could say more. 

Your things had already been delivered into your room. You stepped inside and shut the door behind you. A little bit of comfort came when you slid the lock into place so that no one could follow you in. There might be other ways to get into your room, but you felt a bit better knowing at least this door was locked. You headed towards your trunk to unpack something to sleep in, and sighed heavily to yourself. This was the start of your new life, and you could only feel dread curled up in your stomach at the thought. 

  
  


* * *

Days bled into one another. You lost track of how much time you’d been staying at Bluebeard’s estate by the time he announced one morning he had business to attend to. “I will be gone for the next fortnight,” he admitted. He grimaced a bit when he looked your way over the dining table. “I apologize that I will be gone so long. The wedding is set a week after I return.”

You jolted in your seat the news. Anne was the first to gather her wits about her to speak. “So soon?” she asked. “I had thought we had another month or so more.” 

“Yes, but I feel that if we wait too long nerves will settle over us,” Bluebeard said without looking up from his toast. “I wrote to your father and he agreed he can do it a week after I return from business.” Bluebeard looked around and his eyes sought out your own. “You will be ready by then, have no fear.” It seemed like he was giving you no say in the matter, so you merely nodded your head. 

“Yes,” you replied, when he didn’t look away and it appeared he was waiting for you to speak. You said no more after that and Bluebeard’s brow crinkled in consternation. His eyes flared for a brief moment before they died down. 

“I had thought you had more spunk,” your fiance said as he went back to eating his breakfast. You chewed over your own food and waited for him to continue. “I had hoped that you’d be more light hearted than this. I understand you are fearful because of the pending nuptials, but the woman I had seen at the ball your father held those months ago… the woman I set my eye on that night, that was the woman I had hoped to marry.” 

“I beg your pardon?” you asked. You had no idea what he was talking about. A ball? There had been a ball almost six months ago, but you had gotten sick with fever and couldn’t attend. Your twin Hester had gone instead and had borrowed your-- your mind froze up for a moment. “You chose me because of my attendance at the ball six months passed?” 

“Yes,” Bluebeard said and his eyes narrowed as he studied you. “You had the prettiest yellow ribbons in your hair. You danced jovially and you laughed the loudest. I had been besotted and spoke with your father soon after that about having your hand.” 

Realization curled in your gut. Bluebeard hadn’t wanted you after all. He had always wanted Hester, your bright and cheerful twin. The two of you did appear almost identical. If looked at from afar, why, you would of course look just like Hester. Bluebeard had probably not approached Hester, and therefore couldn’t have known about the mixup. It made sense that Hester would beg your father to believe her that it had been you Bluebeard wanted. The yellow ribbons had sealed your fate. Hester wore a pair of red ribbons she got from an aunt, while you were the only one to wear the yellow ones. The yellow ones your mother had given you on your birthday the month before she died. 

“I will put myself to better please you,” you said through numb lips. Anne had not looked away from you this entire time. You didn’t look at her, because you refused to meet her eye. You didn't want to see if she had realized what had happened either. It pained you to think that Hester might have done this on purpose. She might have known it was her all along Bluebeard desired, and she had twisted things so that your father would think it had been you. Why would your father bother to remember that you had been sick that day at the ball? Why would he care if you had been there or not? Bluebeard was offering a good sum of money for your hand. Of course your father would take him up on the offer. He didn’t care which twin wed Bluebeard, as long as _one_ did. 

“Could you excuse us for a moment, Anne?” Bluebeard asked once breakfast had drawn to a close. Anne looked first at you, before curtsying to Bluebeard and leaving the room. You were left alone with your suitor. You looked just a bit over his shoulder instead of meeting his eyes, and you plastered a small smile to your lips. 

“Is there more you wished to speak with me about?” you asked him in a light, soft voice. Bluebeard hummed to himself under his breath and then dipped a hand inside of his jacket. You finally looked at him as he drew out a set of keys. When he made no move to do anything more than rub his fingers against the ring they were upon, you looked up and your eyes met his own. 

“While I am away, I’m going to give you the keys to the estate,” he told you somberly. There was something in his eyes that set the hairs on the back of your neck to prickling. His eyes bored into your own as he spoke next, “You’re free to wander about the estate as you see fit, however there is one place you must promise to never go.” Goosebumps rose over your arm and your stomach twisted painfully in your gut. He pulled out one tiny key from an inner pocket and held both the ring and that small key out to you. “This key is to a room on the third floor,” he told you quietly. “You’re not allowed to go into that room. No excuses. I’m giving you this key because I must have trust in my future wife that she will not go where she doesn’t belong.” 

You reached a hand out-- glad it was not shaking as the rest of you felt like-- and took the keys from him. “Of course, my lord,” you whispered as you clutched them in your grasp. “I promise to do only what my future husband wills of me.” 

Bluebeard didn’t speak for so long that you finally looked at his face. Once your eyes had alighted on his own again a grin split across his face. “Good,” he said and chuckled. “What sort of marriage would we have if there wasn’t trust between us? My dear bride, you continue to please me. Hopefully once I have returned you’ll be the cheerful, captivating woman I remember you to be.” A bell rang from near the entrance. It was probably to signal they were ready to depart whenever he was. He looked at you one last time before leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek. You were proud of yourself that you didn’t instantly raise a hand to scrub it away. “I’ll see you in a fortnight, bride.” He left a moment later. 

You stared down at the keys in your hand and rolled them between your fingers. There was a room on the third floor, a room your groom said you weren’t allowed to enter. The thought rolled around inside of your head as you studied the smaller key. You turned it first one way and then another, inspecting it. It looked like it was nothing at all, just a small key to a room with no marks to show it to be special. Your fingers wrapped around the keys and gripped them hard as your heart beat a bird’s frantic beat in your chest. 

“Sister?” Anne called as she entered the dining room again. “I saw Bluebeard leave, and I came to find you. Are you quite alright? You looked pale all through breakfast.” 

Your fingers closed over the keys this time and you shoved them into a pocket of your clothes. “I’m fine,” you said as you turned towards her. “Since my groom is gone, should we go stroll through the gardens? I haven’t been able to look at them yet in the last little while since we’ve arrived.” Anne smiled and held an arm out for you to take. 

“Come,” she said. “Let us make haste to the gardens! I hope there are some roses in bloom. I love roses so very much.” 

“Yes,” you told her with a tiny smile, “as do I.” 

  
  


* * *

It was a week later when you were seated upon your bed that Anne finally saw the keys in your possession. “What are those?’ she asked as she breezed into your room without even knocking. You jolted and they slid out of your grasp to hit the floor a moment later with a dull thud. She closed your bedroom’s door behind her and looked at you curiously. “(Y/N)?”

“They’re…” You paused and bent to pick them back up so you could lay them in your lap once more. “They’re keys.” 

“Yes, I noticed that,” Anne said as she walked quickly across the room to sit beside you on the bed. “What I wondered is what they’re _for_.” 

Your fingers worried the keys back and forth, moving them first one way and then another so you could study each one. “They’re the keys to the estate,” you told her. “Bluebeard gave them to me before he left.” 

“Oh,” Anne muttered. “Oh, well that’s not very exciting. I thought it was something more mysterious than that.” 

“This one,” you said and raised the smallest one that wasn’t attached to the ring up, so that it was right in front of Anne’s face, “is mysterious though.” Anne blinked owlishly at it and reached out to pluck it from your grasp. You shied away and held it out of her reach. Anne frowned and stared at you in confusion. 

“What’s so mysterious about that one? It looks like a simple key to a bedroom or some such.” 

“Bluebeard said it’s to a room on the third floor,” you whispered and didn’t bother to wonder why your voice had fallen to a low murmur. You only wanted your sister to hear this. “He told me that I wasn’t, under any circumstances, to use it however. He said he was trusting me not to open the door and see what’s inside of that room.” 

Anne was silent for several long, stretched out minutes. “I see,” she said finally and sighed. “Well, I suppose the only thing you can do is to abide by his wishes.” You looked at her with a partially agape mouth. She blinked back at you. “What?” she asked. “He bid you not to use the key, so you won’t. It would be untoward to do something your groom has explicitly asked you not to.” 

“But why?” you asked her and shook your head. “There must be a reason he doesn’t want me to see inside that room. The thought that there’s something hidden in there-- something that he quite clearly doesn’t want me to know about! That’s why I wish I could use the key. Why, we’re to be wed, are we not? What could he possibly wish to keep from his bride to be?” 

Anne shook her head. “It’s better to let it go,” she told you in a hushed voice. “It might very well be a test. Someone could see you enter it and then they will tell Bluebeard the moment he gets back. You don’t want to make your future husband angry,  (Y/N).” You studied the small key in your hand before you laid it flat in the very center of your palm so you could better view it in one piece. Anne reached out and shook your shoulder gently. “Are you listening?” she asked. “Don’t use it.” 

“Very well,” you told her after a long, drawn out silence. “I won’t use it.” 

“Do you promise?” Anne insisted. 

“I said I won’t use it,” you told her and hopped to your feet. You were angry and not sure why. You had thought your sister would agree with you, would admit she was wondering what was in that room, but she hadn’t seemed the least bit curious. You placed the key into the drawer next to your bed. 

Anne studied you for several long moments before she finally gracefully rose to her feet. “I’ll take my leave of you,” she told you as she began to walk towards the door. “Goodnight, sister. Sleep well.” 

“Thank you,” you told her. “You too, Anne.” 

You laid awake that night in your bed and stared at the ceiling, thoughts whirling a mile a minute in your head. There had to be something hidden in that room that Bluebeard wanted to remain secret. Why would he give you the key though? Why not just keep it on himself as he went to take care of his business? It didn’t sit right with you that he had given you the one thing he didn’t want you to know. He had made it possible for you to find out something sinister or untoward that he wanted to keep hidden. 

It was the wee hours of the night when you finally made up your mind. You would go and look. The moon was high in the sky, and it gave enough light to go by where it fell through the windows. Everyone was asleep by now, and you knew where the servants were stationed at this time of night after being here for over a week. It would only take a few moments to go up one more floor and find the room this key belonged to. You sneaked the key out of the drawer and padded towards your door, so you could peek out and make sure no one was about. 

It would only take a few moments to satiate your mind’s curiosity. Then you could return to bed and sleep the rest of the night away. You tiptoed to the stairs and then took the flight up to the third floor. You hadn’t been to this part of the house yet, and it was darker up here than it was on the second. There were less windows, but still enough light from the moon to see by just barely. You snuck down the hall and started trying each door gently to find the one that would be locked. 

It took several minutes, but finally you happened upon one that wouldn’t budge for your hand. You slid the key out of the pocket of your nightclothes and gently began to search for the hole it would belong to. You found it with your fingers a moment later, and then lined up the key to slide into the lock. It took a little bit of wrestling with the key and lock-- it didn’t want to turn as easily as well oiled ones did-- before it finally clicked and the door’s handle gave way under your hand. It opened slowly and quietly to a room with no windows. You could see nothing from where you stood in the hallway. 

You took a moment to get the key out of the lock and to hold it in your hands as you stepped inside. You felt along the walls for the switch to the light, but had to go deeper into the room to find it. Your feet slid unpleasantly against something wet and you wrinkled your nose. What in the world was in this room to make the floor wet? Your fingers flicked on the light right as your eyes went down to the ground to see what you had almost slipped in. 

Blood. Your heart jerked to a halt in your chest as your throat squeezed shut. There was so much blood on the floor, and it pooled in circles randomly throughout the room. Your hands shook as you stared at it, and fear curled quickly in your gut. The key fell from your numb fingers before you could catch it and landed squarely in the pool of blood you currently stood in. A sound of horror escaped your pursed lips as you bent and picked it up quickly, so you could attempt to wipe off the blood from the key. Your nightclothes didn’t do a thing to clean it, and the blood remained. 

You finally looked up away from the floor to see several tables stuffed into the room, overflowing with human body parts. _Human body parts._ It was clear they were female and you whimpered as you took a step towards the door to flee. No, you couldn’t flee. Not yet. You had to turn off the light and leave so that it looked like the place hadn’t been touched. If Bluebeard found out you had come in here--! 

You snatched up the key from the pool of blood it was in on the floor. Just a quick count showed that there were at least four female remains in the room. There were enough pairs of arms for more, you were sure of it, but you couldn’t stay in this room much longer. You pressed a hand to your face to block out the metallic smell of spilled blood, and then fumbled to turn off the light. You tried not to think about the fact that you had to walk back through the puddles of blood to reach the door and then close it. Your fingers shook as you locked it and then you fled to the stairs and back down to the safety of your own room. 

Once you were safely tucked away, you locked your own door behind you to give yourself a little comfort and then rummaged for something to wipe your feet off with. You’d have to take a bath in the morning and command the servants to draw the water. You didn’t even want to stay in your own skin since the blood had touched it, but there was little choice there. The key fell from your grip as you wiped your feet off and you stared at it the entire time, seeing the gleam in the moonlight, before you spotted the spots of blood on it. 

“No, no,” you murmured as you plucked it back up and began to run the fabric over it quickly. The blood didn’t disappear or vanish. No matter how often or how hard you scrubbed, the blood stayed on the gleaming tiny key. “Oh no, oh no,” you muttered as you clenched your hand around the key. There was little you could do about it. You would try to wash it with water in the morning after you had spoken with your sister. You couldn’t stay here. You couldn’t possibly get married to Bluebeard knowing what he had done to those other women. 

The rest of the night passed fitfully. You didn’t dare go to sleep in fear of something sneaking up on you while you were unconscious. You stayed seated on your bed and stared off into the distance, but you didn’t really see anything. You were too wrapped up in your thoughts. Once the sun was properly up and you could hear the servants going about their daily chores, you threw yourself from the bed and got dressed for the day. Anne was the first person you sought out as you slipped out of your bedroom. 

She was still in her own bed down the hall. You rapped lightly on her door, and she stirred with a sound of discomfort. “Anne,” you whispered as you slipped inside and then shut the door behind you. “Oh dear Anne,” you cried as you clambered onto her bed and placed your hands on her shoulders so you could shake her the rest of the way awake. She cried out in surprise and shot up in bed, staring at you with shock while her hair fell into her eyes and across her face. 

“ (Y/N),” she said and blinked at you several times as she tried to gather her wits. “What’re you doing in here? What’s the matter?” 

“We must leave immediately,” you told her in a hushed whisper. She just continued to stare at you. You held the key out for her to see the blood upon it. “I didn’t listen to you, sister. I went to the room last night to see what he could possibly have hidden within it.” She stared at the key now instead of you for several moments while you let this sink into her brain. Her eyes jerked back up to you when she seemed to realize. She whispered your name in dawning horror, but before she could continue you spoke first. “I’ve found where his previous wives have gone, sister. They’re dead and cut up, dismembered in that room and stored there for what purpose I don’t know!” 

“You can’t be serious,” Anne whispered as her eyes searched your face for any traces of humor. There was none. Slowly her own face transformed into growing horror and dread. “(Y/N), tell me you are playing a prank on me. Please tell me that there aren’t bodies one floor upon us of women who Bluebeard had married before.” You shook your head. You couldn’t tell her that, because it was all true and there was no denying it. She sucked in a breath through her clenched teeth before she spoke again, “He’ll kill you.” She breathed this with dawning realization. “Once he knows that you know his secret, he will _kill_ you,  (Y/N).” 

“Sister, sweet Anne, I don’t know what to do,” you told her and tears filled your eyes. They clung to your lashes and swam in front of your vision, so that it blurred and you couldn’t make out Anne’s face. She reached forward and her hands petted over your hair, pulling you forward so she could wrap her arms around you. “I don’t know who to turn to. Father is insistent upon this marriage, but if I go through with it.” You broke off with a gasp that trembled because of the tears in your eyes. “If I marry Bluebeard, Anne, he’ll kill me for certain.” 

“We can’t let that happen,” Anne said seriously. “Nathaniel is in the village. I’ll send word to him to pick us up with all haste. Certainly Father won’t allow you to return, but Nathaniel will take care of you, sister. I know he will. We take care of our own.” 

You wheezed as you bent forward and placed your head on her shoulder. The tears wouldn’t stop, but Anne didn’t attempt to force you to cease. She allowed you to cry them until you were drained, until you felt like you were able to think more clearly again. “Okay,” you told her as you finally pulled back. She smiled shakily at you as she slipped from her bed and began to dress. “Okay, we should do that.” Your life, as you had known it all these years, really was at an end. Thankfully it was not because of your pending marriage to Bluebeard, but because you would have to flee and live without your father’s help. 

“I’ll send a message to him pleading with him to come get us,” she said as she finished tying up her dress. “He probably won’t be able to rip himself away from his duties until the morrow, but that will give us time to plot our quiet escape from here. I will stay with Nathaniel and you until we have figured out a course of action. Father will accept me back, of that I’m certain, because I will tell him I had no idea what your plan was.” You nodded. You found that fair enough. You didn’t want to force Anne to be on the run with you as well. 

“He’ll take me across the sea,” you said a moment later. The thought didn’t unsettle you as much as it might have weeks ago. For certain it was actually sort of exciting. You had heard of the Enchanted Forest that lay on the other side of the ocean between this land and the next, and you’d always been curious about it. You’d finally have a chance to see it with your own two eyes. “I’ll have to find a way to make a living for myself there.” 

“You’re talented with a needle and thread,” Anne said as she patted over her hair and settled it about her face. When she was done with that she went to her desk and pulled out a piece of parchment with a quill. She didn’t bother asking you for opinions on what to write, and instead set about doing it quickly with barely a hesitation. She had already composed something in her head then. “You’ll find work, I’m sure of it. It shall be much better than anything that could have happened to you here.” 

You agreed with her words. There was quiet between the two of you while Anne worked at the letter. You sat on her bed and picked at her covers, as you stared out the window in her room and watched the day come alive. There were birds flying here and there, and you were sure if you opened the window you’d hear their chatter and song. It raised your heart and spirits a little to know that soon you’d be away from here. Though the gardens and surrounding grounds were beautiful, the castle itself was dark and appeared hostile. You never felt completely safe while you were within its walls. 

“There,” Anne said after she had finished with her letter. “I will seal it and take it myself. I can borrow a horse. It won’t look so suspicious if I go alone. I’ll tell the servants you feel unwell. Take a book or two that I’ve brought with me and read it in bed for the rest of the day. Prepare a bag and hide it under your bed so we can leave immediately come the morning. I told Nathaniel if he can’t come to us, we will find a way to get to him somehow.” 

“Thank you,” you told her as you hurried forward and clasped her hands in your own. “Thank you for being such a wondrous sister, Anne. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” 

“You’d have been beside yourself,” Anne said and forced a small smile to her lips. “I thank the lucky stars that Father sent me as well, (Y/N).” One hand came up to gently touch your face, before she drew back and nodded her head firmly. “Now go to your room and rest for the rest of the day. You mustn't have gotten much sleep last night, sister, because there are bruises beneath your eyes. Rest, and soon this will all be behind us.” She left without another word. You grabbed a book from her desk, and then left to go back to your own room. 

  
  


* * *

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. A servant comes mid morning to bring you something easy and non taxing to eat, and returns later to bring you some soup. You eat these things quietly, but find you can’t eat all of them before your stomach twists unpleasantly. For most of the day you sleep, but for the times you’re awake you read the book you had borrowed and try to keep your mind off the coming escape.

Time is lost between that evening and the next morning. You wake to bird song outside your window and you sit up quickly and glace about. Someone had brought you dinner which you hadn’t eaten because you had fallen into slumber. You clamber out of bed and get dressed for the day. You’re careful to wear a light dress for traveling and to check on the bag you had packed the day before. It’s still hidden underneath your bed, so you leave it for now and decide to go find Anne. 

She bumps into you as you’re stepping out of the bedroom. She hisses your name and grabs your hands with her own. “He’s back,” she whispers to you all in a rush. You blink at her and don’t comprehend what she’s saying at first. “Bluebeard has returned early! He’s demanding you meet him in his library downstairs.” 

“No,” you murmur back to her. “Oh, Anne, I can’t! He’ll ask for the keys and he’ll see the blood on the small one. I can’t wash it off. No matter what I do, the blood remains and the stain doesn’t fade.” Anne shakes her head. 

“Nathaniel is on his way,” she whispers into your ear as a servant passes by. “He sent word very early this morning that he’d be here any moment now. Try to stall your husband to be until Nathaniel arrives. We will be able to escape once he gets here, sister, just please, waylay him as long as you can!” Another servant stops behind Anne and she steps back to see who it is. The man from the first night you’d arrived is standing there, frowning angrily at both of you. 

“His lord requests your presence,” he said to you sternly. “It’s best not to keep him waiting.” 

“Yes,” you muttered and gathered your skirts to hurry towards the stairs. “Yes, of course.” You take them as slowly as you can to draw out the process however. You have to give Nathaniel enough time to come to your rescue. He should be here any moment, which means that you’re so close to being free it quickens your heart with anticipation. “Welcome home,” you greet as you entered the library. Bluebeard turns to peer at you as you step inside. 

“My bride,” Bluebeard said and his lips twist into a smile. Now that you know his secret, however, the smile only sends a horrified shiver through you. “I’ve returned early because I couldn’t bare to be parted with you as long as a fortnight.” 

You laugh and clutch your hands behind you. “It warms me that you say that,” you tell him, even though you feel anything but warm. A chill is curling around your limbs and your eyes will look anywhere but at your fiance. “How was business?” 

“Let’s not speak of that now,” Bluebeard said and moved forward with a hand held out. “My keys, if you will?” 

For a moment time seems to stand still. You look up at Bluebeard’s face to see his eyes are expectantly on you already. “How silly of me,” you replied. You draw the words out in hopes that it will make time pass faster till your brother arrives. “Yes, here they are.” You pull the ring of keys out and hand them to you. A fake smile plastered itself on your face as you watched Bluebeard study them. 

“The other one?” he asked and his brows rise slowly upon his forehead. “I trust you didn’t go into the room I asked you not to?” 

“I,” you begin and your hands clench in your pockets. The small key is within the grasp of your right hand and your palm sweats around it. You don’t know what to say. Words have escaped you and your tongue is dry within your mouth. “I’ve left it in my bedroom, it would seem! How silly of me. If you will allow me to go and fetch it?” 

You start to move back toward the door when Bluebeard’s hand curls around your arm. He pulls you to a halt. Slowly, your eyes turned back to look up into his face. “Don’t be foolish,” Bluebeard said and there’s no trace of humor in his voice. “I know you have it in that pocket. I can see your fist curled around it through the fabric.” He holds his hand out and his eyes glitter coldly. “Now give it to me.” 

Your heart drops down into your stomach and the food you ate last night is curdled there sourly. You bit your lower lip and then draw your hand out slowly. Right as you’re about to hand it to him-- be done with the matter, let him see the blood-- there comes a booming knock on the library door. “My lord,” said a servant from outside the library. “Your bride has a visitor. Her brother, Nathaniel. He said it is urgent and that he must speak to her immediately.” 

“The key,” Bluebeard said and he didn’t take his eyes off of you as he spoke. You stared up at him with furrowed brows and your palm started to sweat more furiously. Another knock came at the door and then it opened. 

“I apologize for the intrusion,” your brother’s voice reached you from the entryway, “but I must steal my sister away from you for a bit. We have pressing business and it cannot wait.” 

Bluebeard turned angry eyes upon your brother at the door. “I’ve important business with her as well,” he barked. “I was speaking with her about it before you interrupted.” 

“I apologize,” your brother said. You turned to see he bowed at Bluebeard and then stood to his full height a moment later. His eyes were cold as he stared at your groom. “I must speak with her on a matter most urgent.” 

“What is that?” Bluebeard questioned. 

“If I could, I would tell you,” your brother said and his lips twisted into a mockery of a sympathetic expression. “She will tell you once I have spoken with her. May I have her presence at my side?” 

You turned to see Bluebeard had started to glare at Nathaniel. “Fine,” he said in a clipped tone. “She returns to me the moment you are through conversing.” 

“Of course.” Nathaniel held his hand out to grasp your own and he began to tow you towards the door. “Come, sister. Take a turn through the gardens with me while we speak.” You were almost out the door when your palm uncurled a bit too much and the key dropped out of your hand. You stopped to pick it up, but somehow Bluebeard was too fast. He grabbed it before you could and you turned to stare in horror at him. His face schooled itself into a blank expression as he stared at the blood stained key. 

“I see,” he said and his eyes turned back to your own a moment later. “You and I will have much to discuss when you return, bride of mine.” 

You didn’t even bother to stop and say anything more to him. Nathaniel grasped your arm and steered you slowly out of the library. “Don’t rush,” he whispered to you as you both began to walk towards the front door. “Anne has already gotten your things and there is a horse waiting for you and I to ride into the village. We must work quickly, sister. He will start to wonder where you’ve gotten to within the hour when I don’t bring you back.” 

“Anne told you?” you asked as you both exited the castle and begin to walk slowly towards the gardens. Your brother nodded. “Nathaniel,” you started. “He will try to start trouble for you.” 

“There won’t be any trouble,” your brother reassured you. “A friend of mine will return Anne to Father. She will tell him of what you found here, and there will be a search at Bluebeard’s estate. I won’t chance you going back to Father, however. My boat leaves today as soon as you and I are upon it. Now come, we must hurry.” You had both reached the edge of the shrubbery that would hide your escape. Nathaniel’s hand slid down to grasp your hand and he tugged you along after him as you both began to run. Until you were on the horse with your brother, you felt as if eyes were staring at you the entire run there.  
  


* * *

A week later found you on new land within a new continent. “I have a little money to tide you over until you find a place to work,” Nathaniel told you as you both disembarked the ship. The last few days had been stressful and fearsome. You’d spent most of your time worried that Bluebeard will somehow get his hands on you no matter how far you fled. “There is another village about a day’s walk from this one that is looking for a seamstress. They have many people who need better crafted clothes. Walk there and you shall find your work. You have to go through the Enchanted Forest, but fear not. As long as you stay upon the path you won’t be lost and the road is safe this time of year.”

“Nathaniel,” you murmured as you turned to hug him. He clasped his arms around you and squeezed tightly. “I can’t thank you enough. Father is going to be angry at you.” 

“He’s always angry at me,” your brother teased. “I abandoned my position as his heir to become a ship captain. I’m a constant disappointment.” 

“Not to me,” you told him seriously. “I’ve always been so proud of you.” 

Nathaniel reached out and bumped his fist against your chin. “You’re a survivor,” Nathaniel told you with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll build yourself a happy life here in this land. I’ll come back to visit in a few months when my ship comes back through. If you have to leave that village, send word to the shipyard here and they will keep the letter for me until I’m back again.” 

“Thank you,” you said again, because you felt like you’d never say it enough. Nathaniel smiled and hugged you one last time. “Send word when Bluebeard has been punished for his crimes.” 

“Of course,” Nathaniel said and then he turned and walked back towards the ship. You were left to stand there to stare after him, before you shook yourself and got your thoughts in order. You had a long walk ahead of you, and it’d do nobody any good if you dawdled. The sooner you got to that other village then the quicker you could find work and a place to stay. 

You set off on the path your brother had pointed you towards. The sun was just barely up in the sky and the morning wind chilled your skin as you went along. You rustled your hand through the pack you had with you. You pulled out something small to eat two hours into your journey and munched on it as you continued to walk. A few times there were other people who walked in the opposite direction of you, headed back towards the bustling city you’d left behind. 

Toward midday there came a split in the path. You stopped to stare first down one and then another. “Which way?” you muttered to yourself. Your brother had made it seem like the path was very straight forward. You should just continue to follow it until you reached the village. There came a sudden feeling deep in your gut that pulled you to go right, though the path to the left seemed like it was more well used. “I think it’s to the left,” you told yourself as you tapped a finger to your lower lip in thought. 

Your gut instincts, so far, had never been wrong however. You felt a strong urge to go right and after several minutes you gave in. You went right instead of left, in the direction that you felt was right even though your brain told you it was more natural the village was to the left. The path grew darker as you walked along and the trees crowded in close. There came no foot traffic from this path and you were all alone as you walked. 

It was close to evening when you finally stopped to sit down on a rock and rest. “I probably should have gone right,” you told yourself. You looked back the way you’d come and chewed on your lower lip in thought. There was still time for you to turn around and head back. You’d probably have to camp out in the wilderness tonight, but that would be okay if you could find a place to hide away. Mind made up, you stood and turned to walk back to the fork in the road when a sudden voice reached you. 

“Are you lost?” 

You turned to see a blonde child peering at you from around a tree. You hadn’t noticed there was a clearing just behind the thicket of trees there. It was clear she’d been playing. She stepped out from between the trees to stand on the path next to you and peer up into your face. “Hello,” you greeted her, because you didn’t want to be rude. “I’d been travelling to the next village when I got turned about. I’d thought this path felt right, but it seems it was wrong.” You shrugged when she just tilted her head at you. “I think I have to turn around and go back.” Your eyes dropped to the ring of flowers the child held in her hands. “Oh, are you trying to weave those together?” 

She looked down at the flowers before up at you again and nodded. “Yes!” she said excitedly. “I just can’t seem to get them right.” 

“Here,” you replied and held a hand out to take them from her. She eagerly handed them over and you smiled a little as you picked a few apart. “There’s a trick to it, see? My older sister Anne taught me when I was about your age. Let me show you.” You went to sit back down on the rock you’d been on earlier, and the girl followed you to perch next to you. Silence descended upon the both of you as you began to fix her flower crown. “There,” you said a moment later and reached out to place it upon her head. 

She reached up and pulled it off a moment later so she could better study it. “It’s much better than what I did before,” she told you and grinned. “Can you help me make more? I’m having a tea party with my dolls.” 

You had nothing better to do, and you did wonder why a child was out here all by herself. “Sure,” you told her and got to your feet. She excitedly went through the trees back into the clearing and you followed behind. She hadn’t lied, either. She had some old, worn dolls seated in a circle in the very middle of the meadow and some chipped, damaged tea cups. You seated yourself across from her as she got all the flowers she must have picked earlier and placed them in front of you. 

“I’m Grace,” she said a moment later when her eyes had lit up like she’d realized something. “Papa says it’s rude to forget your manners, and I forgot mine! I’m sorry. What’s your name?” 

“(Y/N),” you told her as you reached out and began plucking the best flowers from the pile. You wove them easily enough, and Grace soon followed to make a crown herself. She imitated what you were doing and kept her eyes on your fingers as you worked. “I’m sorry as well. My manners abandoned me, and I didn’t think to ask for your name.” 

Grace giggled. “That’s alright,” she told you with a smile. “We can call it even. We both forgot.” 

“Deal,” you said and flashed a smile of your own at the child. The two of you went back to weaving flowers quietly. You made small crowns for all of her dolls and placed them upon her head. Grace’s crown was bigger and you wondered who she was making it for. Perhaps the Papa she’d mentioned earlier? You wondered where he was, since she was all alone in the clearing. “Where’s your family?” you asked her a moment later, because you felt you might as well converse with her. Something in you told you it’d be a good idea to get to know her a little better while you sat with her. 

“It’s only Papa and me,” Grace told you as she studied the flowers left in the pile and plucked up a red one. “Papa is tending to his mushrooms and said to stay here until he got back.” You nodded your head to show you heard her. “He should return soon. He told me he’d help me have a tea party with my guests.” 

“I remember having tea parties with my sisters when I was about your age,” you told her as your fingers worked deftly with the flowers. You barely had to pay any attention to them at all. You’d always been rather adept with your hands, whether it was sewing, weaving, or any other number of tasks. “They used to end badly though, because Hester never did have patience to sit still for more than ten minutes.” 

Grace looked interest as she asked, “How many siblings do you have?” You looked up at her and then smiled. “I don’t have any,” she went on to explain with a small frown. “I wonder what it’s like.” 

“Terrifying sometimes,” you told her in a hushed whisper as if someone might overhear and she leaned forward conspiratorially to listen. “I have two sisters and a brother, you see. One is my twin! We’re nearly identical, but not exactly. She has Father’s nose, you see, while I have Mother’s. Also her eyes are a different shade of (e/c) than my own. They’re all older than me, and I’ve been given a lot of grief for being the youngest of four.” 

Grace looked even more interested about Hester. “A twin?” she asked. “Did you use to dress the same growing up? The books I have always have the twins dressed identically!” 

“Mother used to love to have us wear matching or similar outfits,” you admitted. “She spent a lot of time making our dresses herself and only switching up a few little things to differentiate us. Father used to say he’d forget which was which, and only Mother could tell us apart.” It was before Father had turned sour and unhappy. Mother’s death had stressed the entire family. 

“Why aren’t you with your family now?” Grace asked and the frown she’d worn earlier was back, except this time it appeared more troubled. “I’d never want to leave Papa.” 

“A bad man chased me out,” you told her simply. You didn’t want to get too into depth with the child. It’d probably only make her fear her future if she thought of all the evil men out there who might try to trick her. “I couldn’t go back to my own family, so my brother sent me across the sea. He said I’d be safer here. I was on my way to the next village over, because he thought I might get some jobs sewing and making outfits for the people there.” 

“So you have no home?” 

You paused your fingers for a moment in thought. “I suppose I don’t,” you said finally and the finality of your life settled upon you. Your family was well out of your reach now. There was no returning to your family estate, and you’d have to set up a life for yourself without any help from your siblings. “I’m all on my own now.” 

“That sounds very lonely,” Grace replied. It was very lonely. You hadn’t realized how odd it felt to walk the entire day and have no one to talk to. You’d always been surrounded by family-- cousins, your siblings, aunts or uncles-- and now there was no one. There weren’t even any staff to speak to you or remind you of appointments to be kept. Grace stared at you for several moments before continuing with, “I get lonely sometimes too.” 

“Do you?” you asked and forced yourself to halt your depressing thoughts. “Why, I thought you said it was you and your Papa?” 

“Yes,” she told you, “but sometimes it still gets lonely. Mama--” She stopped for a moment and frowned fiercely at the flowers in her hands. “Mama died when I was really little and so now it’s only Papa and I. Sometimes I wish… I wish we lived closer to others so I could have someone to play with, and talk to.” 

“Well you have me for right now,” you told her with a smile as you put the finishing touches on the flower crown. You held it out for her to look at and she grinned wide and toothy. “And now you know how to make better flower crowns!” 

“What’s this?” comes a voice from behind you. Grace perked up and leaped to her feet, a grin already on her face in response to the person. She reached out and plucked up the crown you’d made, then raced to who could only be her father. “A visitor in the Enchanted Forest?” 

You climbed to your feet and dusted your dress off before you turned to greet Grace’s father. “I apologize,” you said. “I got lost on the path to the next village over, and Grace came over to greet me when she heard me speaking to myself. I saw she was having trouble with the flowers, and thought only to pause a moment to show her how, and I suppose time got away from me.” 

The man that stood before you was only a few years older than yourself, though it looked like the times had been hard to him. He stood taller than you and his eyes were only slightly narrowed as they studied you. Grace wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug and he tore his gaze away to look down at his daughter. “She’s from across the sea!” Grace said excitedly. “She doesn’t have a home anymore, and she got lost in the woods, Papa.” 

Grace’s father looked at you again. “You spoke of much then,” he said and opened his mouth to say more but his daughter cut him off. 

“She has no where to go,” she told him quickly, “and she’s lonely just like we are! Do you think…” Grace trailed off and seemed to have to collect her courage to ask what she wanted to next. “Do you think she could stay with us, Papa? She so nice and she helped me make flower crowns, and we talked about a lot of fun things as we wove!” 

“Grace,” he said as he bent down to crouch at her level. “She must have her own life to get back to.” 

“She doesn’t!” Grace said and shook her head. “She’s from across the sea, and a bad man chased her here. Papa, you always say we must be kind to others, and (Y/N) could use a bit of kindness, don’t you think?” 

“Oh, Grace,” you said and entered the conversation. You furrowed your brows and clenched your hands together as you peered at them. “No, that’s quite alright. I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose. You both have your own lives and it’d be rude of me to take advantage of any sort of kindness.” 

“You said you were going to sew in the village,” Grace said and she turned her eyes on you for a moment before going back to her father. “I have some dresses she could sew, and she could stay until the village finds a place for her.” 

Her father studied you quietly for a moment before looking back down at his daughter. “You want her to stay with us very much, don’t you Grace?” Grace nodded her head quickly. “It might be good for you to have a feminine touch about.” He turned his gaze to meet your own this time. “We don’t have much,” he explained, “and the cottage we live in is a bit run down, but if you’d like to stay with us until you find another home, I suppose I’ll welcome you.” 

“I,” you began and cut yourself off a moment later. You looked first at him, then at Grace, before you turned your gaze back to her father. It would be foolish of you to turn down such an offer, and no ill feelings came to you as you studied them. You’d always had a good intuition, and it’d be foolish to start doubting yourself now. “I’m (Y/N),” you told him and stepped forward with a small, tentative smile. You went to curtsy before remembering yourself and aborted the motion halfway through. Grace’s father quirked a brow at the movement, but didn’t question it. “May I ask your name?” 

“Jefferson,” he informed you, “and I see you already know Grace.” 

“Pleasure,” you said and reached up to clutch at the straps that held your bag to your back. You worried your lower lip between your teeth for a moment, but Grace broke the tension a moment later. 

“Here, Papa,” she said and held the crown up toward him. He turned his gaze to blink down at her. “One for you, and one for me, and one for (Y/N)!” He bent down so that Grace could place it upon his head. “(Y/N) made that one! She’s much better at this than I am. She said her sister taught her the trick, and she’d teach it to me too.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Jefferson complimented and his eyes went back to you, before they dipped to Grace once more. “You have one there in your hand. Who’s that one for?” 

“(Y/N),” Grace replied and then she moved to stand in front of you. “I made this one for you! It’s yellow like the ribbons in your hair.” You had forgotten you’d tied them there that morning and you reached up to tentatively touch them. You smiled a moment later and bent down so that Grace could place the yellow crown of flowers upon your head. 

“Thank you,” you told her. “Yellow’s my favorite color, you know.” 

“I like red,” she told you, and your lips quirked up a bit more at the admission. Hester’s favorite color had been red as well. “Papa got me a coat that’s red, and I can show it to you when we get back!” 

“I’d enjoy that,” you admitted. It felt nice to have someone to talk to, and Grace didn’t look at you suspiciously or even think twice about the way she chattered to you. You glanced at her father to find him with a contemplative look upon his features. “You also said there’s some things I could sew? I brought my mother’s old sewing kit with me, so I’d be more than happy to take a look at them.” 

“Let’s finish our tea party,” Grace said and went back to her stuffed animals. She plopped down and looked first at you, then at her father. “Can’t we?” 

“Of course,” Jefferson said before you could muster up a response. He stepped forward and made room for himself in between two stuffed animals and folded himself into a seated position. Now both pairs of eyes were upon you and they waited patiently for you to join them. You smiled as you seated yourself where you’d been before. “Now that we’re all wearing our proper attire,” Jefferson went on to say and reached up to poke at his flower crown, “we can finally have some of that tea.” 

Grace beamed and picked up the old teapot set in the middle of the circle. She pretended to pour tea into the cups. “You said you’d had tea parties with your sisters?” Grace asked as she handed you a cup first. You smiled and nodded. “Did your parents ever join you?” 

“By the time we had tea parties,” you admitted, “my mother had already passed.” There came a shadow across Jefferson’s face, but Grace just continued to peer at you curiously. 

“Your Papa?” she prompted. 

“He,” you murmured and then looked down at the cup and smiled a little sadly. “Oh, he always said he had better things to be doing than drinking tea with his daughters.” Grace frowned and looked like she was about to say something, so you hurried on to say, “How lucky you are though!” Your eyes went to Jefferson first and then back to Grace. “Your father looks like he delights in doing these things with you. My sisters and I would’ve been envious!” 

Grace smiled, but it was Jefferson who responded. “She’s right,” he told Grace. “I’m the very best person to have for a tea party, Grace.” 

“I know that, Papa!” Grace giggled. She pretended to take a sip of her tea and looked off into the distance as she thought over what you’d said. You looked at Jefferson first to find him already studying you over the rim of his cup as he fake sipped his own drink. You raised it to your lips and mimicked the same. “You said you’re from across the sea?” Grace asked a few moments later when the silence had just begun to stretch into awkward territory. 

“That’s right,” you told her. 

“Are you a princess?” She looked excited by the very idea. You smiled a little and shook your head. Her face fell in disappointment before she seemed to forget, and went on with, “I’ve never been on a boat. You traveled by boat, didn’t you?” 

“I did,” you replied. “My brother is the First Mate of a ship, and it was his boat that brought me here.” Grace excitedly got onto her knees and leaned forward to stare intensely at you. You grinned as you said, “No, he’s not a pirate, I’m afraid. There’s no swashbuckling or high sea stakes. He’s very boring, truth be told. I nearly fall asleep whenever he tries to tell me about what they do!” 

“Has he ever met pirates?” she asked. You shook your head. “Princesses?” 

“I think he met a Prince once,” you replied as you screwed up your face in thought and stared off into the distance. “But, you see, the tricky thing about brothers is they _lie_ sometimes to mess with you. I’m not sure if he really meant it when he told me he met a Prince. I think he was just trying to get me all worked up over it and excited.” 

Grace seemed to chew this over. “You said you have two sisters?” 

“You have a good memory!” you told her. You glanced at Jefferson to see him quietly watching the conversation. He seemed completely at ease to not be speaking, though the few things he said before had hinted at how well he could talk. You looked back at Grace when Jefferson caught your gaze and focused on her once more. “I have two sisters. I used to have two brothers, but now I only have one.” Your family tended not to speak about your deceased brother, because he had passed in the same manner as your mother. It brought pain to think of them even all these years later. 

“What’s it like to have sisters?” Grace set her cup down in front of her and folded her hands primly in her lap. “I’ve always wondered.” 

“Nothing’s ever just yours,” you replied and she blinked owlishly at you to show her confusion. “With Hester-- my twin, I told you about earlier-- she was always getting into my things and stealing my dresses and shoes. I’d want to wear my favorite yellow dress, only to find that it’d gone missing! It would always turn up in Hester’s closet or on her floor somewhere.” 

“Your other sister, did she ever do that?” 

“Oh no,” you responded. “Anne was always very polite and well mannered. If she wanted something, she’d ask you first before taking it.” Anne also didn’t like the same fabrics or styles of dress as you did, which helped to keep her out of your things. It was only Hester you had to worry about. Anne dressed more conservatively and with a meek air about her. 

“Anne,” Grace said as if to test the name on her tongue. “Hester. What’s your brother’s name?” 

“Nathaniel,” you said with a small smile. “Matthew was my other brother’s name before he passed.” 

“Nathaniel,” Grace repeated, and then, “Matthew.” 

“That’s right.” 

Grace looked up toward the sky, before she looked at her father. “We have to go in now, don’t we?” she asked with a frown. Jefferson merely nodded. “I was having fun.” She pouted a bit and sighed as you began to gather her stuffed animals to her. You helped by picking up the teapot and her cup as well as your own. You held your hand out to Jefferson, and he blinked at you before giving his own cup over. 

“You have plenty of time to have more fun another day,” you told Grace simply as you got to your feet. She clambered up, and Jefferson gracefully got to his own. It was a direct contrast to how unelegantly both you and his daughter had stood up. “Just because the day’s ending doesn’t mean your adventure is.” 

“Who used to say that to you?” Jefferson asked as Grace loaded away the toys in a little basket you hadn’t noticed earlier. You turned to peer at him with a quirked brow. 

“What makes you think someone used to say it to me?” 

“The way you said it,” Jefferson pointed out. “It was as if you were reciting it from memory.” 

Grace seemed happy enough to walk ahead of the two of you as you all began to head in the opposite direction of where you’d first entered the meadow. You hadn’t noticed earlier, but there was a less used, more nature than clear path on that side of the clearing. Grace walked along it as if she knew it by heart, and you followed along at Jefferson’s side. “My sister Anne used to say it to me when I was about Grace’s age,” you admitted. “She was more mother than child, even back then.” 

Silence stretched between you again. Grace was up ahead humming to herself as she skipped along. You watched her for a few moments, before you turned your gaze to Jefferson. His own eyes were already upon you. It seemed he’d watched you while you stared ahead. “Do you mind if I ask a question or two?” you asked. Grace had done most of the asking before, and you felt like you should try to get to know them since they’d been kind enough to offer you a place to stay for now. 

“I don’t see why not,” he said, “but if I don’t like the question, I’ll merely refuse to answer.” 

“Fair enough,” you replied and then fell silent as you thought about what you wanted to ask. There were so many things that were important to know. All of your questions bounced around inside your head as you chewed over each one to find a good one to start with. “How long have you lived in the forest?” 

“As long as Grace has been alive,” Jefferson admitted. That didn’t exactly tell you for sure, but you could guess as to how old Grace was. She appeared to be around six, if not a little younger or older than that. “My deceased wife had wanted to settle down here when she found she was with child.” 

The dead wife was brought up once more. Grace had also mentioned her mother being gone a few times as well. You definitely didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask about that further. If they wanted you to know more then surely they’d tell you when they were ready. Grace took that moment to slow down and enter the conversation again. 

“Do you miss your mama?” she asked and you looked at her in surprise. “You mentioned that she passed when you were young. Do you remember her?” 

The thought of your mother unsettled you and you bit your lower lip as you thought. “She passed when I was very, very young,” you admitted, “probably around your own age. I don’t remember a lot about her, but I do miss her.” 

“If you don’t remember her,” Grace began, “then how do you miss her?” 

“I’ve heard enough about her to miss her,” you inform her. “Anne and Nathaniel took it upon themselves to tell Hester and myself all about her. Our Father hated speaking of her after she and Matthew passed, but they felt like Hester and I deserved to know.” You paused as you thought it over. “Even if I don't remember her, I know she loved me very much, and I miss that I never got a chance to know her in return.” 

“I miss my mama too,” Grace whispered. Jefferson tensed up beside you, but didn’t move to speak. Grace wasn’t done yet. “I only remember her a little bit, and mostly when I dream. I’m scared someday I’ll forget her completely.” 

“It’s okay to miss her,” you tell her quietly, “and it’s alright to be scared she’ll be gone, but she’ll never really be forgotten. You might forget her face, or her voice.” Those were the first things to go for you and your own mother. “She gave you a life to live, and the best you can do is just do her proud.” 

Suddenly a cottage comes into view and Grace races ahead toward it. That left you with Jefferson who walked beside you, apparently at no hurry to rush after his daughter. “She’s taken a liking to you,” he observed after another few moments of silence. You looked over at him curiously. “It’s hard to get her to open up to strangers. I’m glad to see there are people out there who can coax her into opening up.” 

You pick at the skirt of your dress and refuse to meet his eyes for a moment. A warm feeling is infusing you as you turn his words over in your head. Unlike when you were presented with Bluebeard and a possibility of living with him, you’d felt wrong and cold, but this… this was different. “She’s a lovely child,” you told him finally. “You must be proud.” 

“I am,” Jefferson stated simply. 

Jefferson entered the cottage first and you trailed along behind him. You can make out Grace in a room to the side that must be her own. She’d already took out her dolls and placed them back on her bed. Once she finished with that, she walked out to stand next to you and beam up at you. “Papa grows mushrooms,” she told you as she swayed back and forth on her feet. “She sells them in the village. Probably the one you were looking for! This is where I’ve lived my whole life. It mustn’t be as nice as where you’re from though.” Her smile dampened a little. 

“Oh, it’s much better,” you hurried to tell her. You think of Bluebeard’s estate and a shiver runs up your spine. “The one I came from before was dark and cold. Even my family estate before that was quiet and lonely. This is much, much better.” Grace grinned up at you and seemed pleased with the knowledge. 

“Grace,” Jefferson called. “Go wash up before we eat.” Grace looked torn between you and what her father had ordered her to do. You waved her off and promised to still be here when she returned. She smiled and then hurried off to do just that. 

“I’m sorry to impose on you,” you told him as you stepped toward the small table they had. He looked over at you and quirked a brow. “I had noticed your garden near the cottage is a bit overrun.” 

Jefferson stopped getting things ready to peer at you. “I grow my mushrooms further out in the forest where it’s darker,” he explained. “I don’t have enough time to keep up with the garden, and Grace isn’t old enough to be able to do most of it on her own.” He paused. “We mostly buy what we need from the village if I have the coin.” 

“I’ll help to tend to it,” you offered. You practically jumped at the chance. Guilt gnawed at you that you now had a place to stay, but no job to call your own. “I’ve always had a bit of a green thumb, as well as a gift for sewing.” Jefferson watched you closely with a frown on his face. “I hate being a burden. The village, it was mentioned it’s only an hour’s walk from here?” 

“That’s right,” Jefferson replied. 

“I can go there in the morning and see if the seamstress needs extra help,” you said. Now that you had a plan solidifying in your head, you felt a bit lighter and more at ease. You smiled suddenly and clasped your hands together behind your back. “I mean, as soon as I’m earning some coin, I wouldn’t mind-- that is to say, I’m sure you can handle yourself fine, but--” 

“Yes, alright,” Jefferson said. It seemed he had gotten the gist of what you were trying to tell him. He looked away and started spooning dinner into wooden bowls. “That would be agreeable. If that’s what you’d like to do.” 

“It is,” you told him quickly. “I’ve lived enough off other people’s kindness. I’d like to at least offer something in return for it.” 

The rest of dinner that night passed without much ceremony or trouble. The spare room they had was mostly used for storage, and Jefferson cleared it out for you before he helped you get the cot into a decent condition. The next week, too, flew by without barely a thought to it. The seamstress in town happily asked you to do some work for her, though there was really nowhere for you to stay. Her house was overrun with children, and no where else did they want to offer you a room. After much worrying, Jefferson made the whole matter pointless when he told you that you could rent the small room in their cottage if you’d like. 

Mostly you spent the days sewing and gardening, while Grace happily chattered to you about whatever came to mind. She seemed excited to have the company of someone other than her father or the animals in the forest. She was even more overjoyed when you fixed some of her older dresses and she could wear them again. The garden started to flourish again after that first month passed, and you were able to offer some more vegetables and herbs for Jefferson to use in the kitchen. 

The atmosphere around the cottage lightened considerably now that Jefferson didn’t have to worry quite so often about finances. You didn’t realize it until one night he laughed louder than usual and you stared at him for a moment in surprise. He smiled at you more and didn’t seem quite so guarded in your presence. Grace seemed to take notice and she looked generally more cheerful with each day that passed. 

Three months into your stay with their family, Jefferson began to show an interest in you for more than just someone who made his daughter happy. “What land did you come from?” he asked one night as you sewed near the fire. You looked up at him in surprise, and he caught the look right when you started to shift it back to a neutral expression. “What?” he asked with a quirked brow. “Am I not allowed to be curious?” 

“I just hadn’t expected you to be,” you admitted. You bit the edge of your lips before you said, “Bosquet. The land is called Bosquet.” You looked down at the cloth you were currently tasked to sew. 

“Your family were lords and ladies?” You looked at him with even more of a startled expression than before. “When we first met, you almost curtsied before you stopped yourself.” He shrugged. “I’ve seen people of the court when they greet one another. The curtsy you went to do was something a well bred lady would do.” 

Slowly, you responded, “That’s right. My father’s a lord of the land, as was the man I fled from.” It was the first time you admitted to Jefferson anything to do with Bluebeard. Jefferson looked curious so you continued, “There was a man who wanted my hand in marriage. He offered my father a lot of money. My father said that, though I didn’t want the suit, that I would go through with it because I was a _respectable lady_ , and we do as our fathers bid us.” You stared down at the sewing in your lap and your fingers released it as you pick at a stray thread of your skirt. “He-- I stayed at his estate while the wedding was prepared. He left for business and he gave me keys to the mansion. I-- there was one key he told me I was never to use, to a room on the third floor, and…” 

“I take it you let curiosity get the better of you?” Jefferson queried. 

“There was something _wrong_ ,” you replied vehemently, with more force than you had meant to use. “Something was wrong with him, and that mansion, and--” You broke off and shook your head. “I had a bad feeling. It was like something was creeping over my skin and giving me the chills. Anne cautioned me not to-- she was there to chaperon me before the wedding-- but I ignored her. I found…” Your voice trailed off and you shook your head. 

Even now, three months later, it turned your stomach to remember that room. It pained you to remember the pools of blood, the dismembered bodies, the horror that had clawed up your throat along with the bile. “I forgot to mention that he’d been married six times previously, before he set his sights upon me. Those wives, they vanished and no one ever asked where they’d gone, no one ever wondered how he’d lost six wives.” You looked up at Jefferson to see that he wore an expression of dawning realization. “I-- in that room, I found where the wives had gone.” 

“He… killed them?” Jefferson asked. You nodded your head. 

“Worse, somehow,” you muttered. “He…” You glanced at Grace’s door, but it seemed she was still asleep. “He chopped them up and… for what reason, even I don’t know, but he had their bodies in there. There was blood all over the floor in puddles and I had stepped in it without realizing.” Your throat closed over and you shook your head, your eyes closed as you clenched your fingers in your lap. 

“I told Anne the very next morning. I could barely sleep all night, and I rushed to her as soon as the sun rose in the sky. We made plans to flee and get to our brother Nathaniel.” You looked into the fire with furrowed brows. “Before we could leave, Bluebeard-- he came back. He summoned me to his library, and he demanded the key back. I had dropped it in some blood, and no matter how I scrubbed it wouldn’t come off. I knew--” Your gaze was vacant now as you thought back on the fear and the adrenaline that coursed through you at the time. “I knew if I gave him the key, I’d be signing my own death sentence. Nathaniel-- he came just in time, demanded to speak with me. I dropped the key when we were almost gone and my fiance got it before I could. He knew. He stared straight at me with cold eyes and he knew what I’d done.” You looked up at Jefferson. “Thankfully Nathaniel smuggled Anne and I out, and then he placed me upon a boat. He said that Bluebeard would be handled-- that he’d been turned in and the bodies had been found, but…” You shook your head. “I still think of that room sometimes. I still wonder what kind of monster had tried to marry me.” 

Silence stretched between you both. You plucked up your sewing once more and started to get back to work again. It was several minutes before Jefferson spoke again. “I’m thankful you survived,” he told you quietly. You looked up at him in surprise and your hand fumbled with the sewing. His eyes were serious as he stared back at you. “You’ve cheered Grace-- and myself-- a lot since your arrival. I’m thankful for that.” He got to his feet a moment later and did a little bow to you. “Goodnight. Sleep well,” he said and then he left. 

You stared after him for several minutes and tried to ignore the sensation that fluttered in your stomach.  
  


* * *

It was after you had lived with Jefferson and Grace for six months that you received a letter from your brother. Grace and Jefferson had went to the village together first thing that morning. It was well into the afternoon by the time they returned, Jefferson with a troubled expression on his face and a still half full basket of mushrooms. Grace, however, looked excited as she ran to meet you on the front steps of the cottage. You’d come outside to sew the rest of the dress the banker had ordered from the seamstress because the sunshine felt nice and warm on your skin.

“(Y/N),” Grace called as she skid to a halt in front of you. Her face was flushed and a wide smile was on her lips. “The seamstress stopped us and asked me to bring this to you!” She held out what was quite obviously a letter. You reached out and took it from her. Your sewing was abandoned in your lap. “She said it came for you a few days ago.” 

“Thank you,” you told her as you slit the letter open and slipped the parchment free. Your brother’s familiar handwriting greeted you. “It’s a letter from Nathaniel,” you told Grace when it appeared she was still interested in what was going on. Jefferson reached the two of you as you announced it, and he set the basket of mushrooms down. They both perched on either side of you, though Jefferson looked unaffected and uninterested in your letter, while Grace seemed to vibrate in excitement. 

“What does it say?” she asked when you silently read it through. Your eyes scanned over it a few times before you flipped it around to see if there was more. There wasn’t. She searched your face as you looked at the words again and you frowned. 

“He…” You trailed off as you tried to think of something lighthearted to say. “He wanted to ask me how I’m doing. He heard that I’ve been doing well, and wants to hear it from my own hand.” You stopped for a moment and blinked down at the letter as you chewed over the rest of the information. It was too serious to tell Grace, and would only bring down the mood. You looked up at her and smiled. “He also sent word that he’s been made Captain!” That, at least, was not a lie. He’d written it on the bottom of the parchment almost as an afterthought. 

“Captain!” Grace whispered and her eyes were huge in her face. 

“The best news of all is my sister Hester was announced engaged,” you told her as you folded up the letter and placed it underneath the sewing. You’d hide it away later so you could reread at your leisure. “It seems they finally found someone who finds her an agreeable sort.” 

Grace sat back and stared out across the clearing in front of the cottage as she thought this over. “Will she write to you too?” she asked. 

“Probably not,” you replied. Grace whipped her head around to stare at you in confusion. You peered back at her quietly before you said, “Only Nathaniel knows for certain where I’ve gone. It’s best to keep it that way. He’ll send along news whenever he can of what’s happening, but otherwise that’s all the contact I’m likely to receive.” 

Grace looked saddened by this. “Aren’t you lonely without them?” 

“I suppose I was at first,” you said as you continued your sewing. It helped not to have to look at either of them and you kept your hands busy as you spoke. “I was raised to know one day I’d be without them though. Not everyone is as lucky as you, Grace,” you teased and leaned over to knock your shoulder gently against her own. “My Father was quick to remind his daughters that one day we’d be out of his reach. I’ve had years to get used to the idea.” 

“How old are you?” Grace asked next and you sputtered in surprise. You hadn’t expected that question, though you supposed you should have. “Papa says he’s twenty-seven, and that’s very old and wise.” You turned your gaze on Jefferson to find him smothering a smile. You quirked a brow at him before you turned your gaze back to his daughter. 

“I’m twenty-two,” you told her. “I’m not as wise as your Papa, but I’m getting there.” 

“I turn seven soon,” she told you primly as if that would change your idea of how wise she was as well. You smothered your own smile this time and continued sewing. 

“Is that so?” you asked as you finished the section of skirt you’d been working on. Grace puffed up and grinned at you when you caught her eyes out of the corner of your own. “Seven whole years old. What a lady you’re growing into!” It was a good thing Jefferson had already told you a few nights passed about Grace’s birthday. The new dress you had started for her wouldn’t have been done in time otherwise. 

“Can we have a tea party tomorrow?” Grace wheedled as she peered around you and over at her father. Jefferson was too busy going through his basket of leftover mushrooms to notice. 

“I have to go back to the village tomorrow,” he replied. Grace pouted and deflated a bit. He looked over and caught Grace’s frown, before he sighed and set the basket aside. “If you’d like, you could stay behind with (Y/N) and the two of you could have one for just girls? Maybe if you ask her _real_ nice.” 

Grace turned her eyes on you. “Of course,” you told her with a smile. “I would be honored to be an esteemed member of your party.” 

She clapped her hands together and jumped to her feet. “I’ll be prepare the other guests,” she told you before she scampered inside. That left you and Jefferson alone together outside. Neither of you moved to speak and you enjoyed the silence. 

“What do you think of it?” you asked him a few minutes later and held the dress up. He tore his gaze away from the mushrooms he’d been in deep thought over to look at the dress. “I made it for Grace’s birthday. She likes the color red, and I saw this fabric when I turned in the last few garments I made a fortnight ago.” 

Jefferson blinked owlishly and his mind worked sluggishly behind his eyes to catch up with the conversation. “That’s for her?” he asked and nodded to the dress. You quirked a brow and nodded. “It’s… you made that?” You nodded again. He’d seen you make clothing before, so you weren’t sure why he looked like you’d slapped him across the face. “It’s beautiful,” he replied honestly and his eyes turned to meet your own. 

You flushed and smiled, pleased with the compliment. The dress crumbled back into your lap as you resumed your sewing. “It’s not nearly as fine as others I’ve made,” you told him, “but the fabric is the nicest I could find with the extra coin I had saved up. There aren’t any ribbons, but I’m doing a special stitch that’ll look pretty with the dress.” 

You could feel Jefferson’s eyes on you as you sewed, but you didn’t bother to look around at him. He didn’t respond at all for a long while. The silence wasn’t awkward, however, and the two of you sat next to each other until the sun began to sink too low for you to view your work properly. You folded the dress up and finally turned your face to smile curiously at Jefferson. “Thank you,” he blurted right when you had opened your mouth to speak. Your lips closed a moment later and you blinked owlishly at him. “Just… she was happy before,” he went on to explain, “but your presence-- she cares for you, and I’ve found… I like your presence as well.” 

“I--” You cut yourself off for a moment and blinked rapidly at him. You wouldn’t cry over this! He was being kind to you, and that didn’t mean you had to get all emotional over it. “I cherish my time with both of you,” you told him a moment later once you had gotten your feelings under control. A small, true smile came to your lips and you laughed lightly. 

Suddenly, without warning, Jefferson reached a hand out and carefully pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. His fingers trailed gently against your cheek and your skin lit up with awareness of how close he was. You stared up at him with a startled expression, your mouth falling open into a soft o as you watched his face. He pulled his hand back slower than he’d brought it there, as if he didn’t want to move away, and his eyes searched your own. 

“I--” he began, but then there came a sound of footsteps that approached your location quickly. Jefferson pulled away just as Grace burst outside. 

“Are we going to have supper?” she asked and didn’t seem to notice the two of you seated a little closer than necessary or normal, instead she looked first at you and then at her father. Jefferson got to his feet and plucked up the basket of mushrooms. 

“Let’s eat,” he announced and then hurried inside of the cottage. You sat there for a moment and stared at Grace’s future present, before you much more slowly got to your feet. 

“I _am_ hungry,” you agreed and followed him inside with Grace right next to you. You didn’t bring up that weird moment again. Jefferson avoided your eyes for much of the night, and then turned in for bed earlier than usual. You watched him go with a hand placed against the cheek he’d touched, and you stared off into space for a minute longer than you strictly should have before you snapped yourself out of it. 

  
  


* * *

Grace’s birthday came and went. She loved the dress and wore it for a week straight afterward. The contents of your brother’s letter went unannounced and unbothered. You stewed over the news for much of the next month and wondered how you felt on the matter. Bluebeard had vanished before anyone could take him into custody, and your brother had informed you that much was being done to find him. There was no way he could find you here, but still your heart jerked painfully in your chest whenever you thought of him. Fear simmered low in your belly, but you got enough to ignore it for the most part.

Jefferson and you acted awkwardly about each other for a few weeks before things seemed to settle back into normalcy. If he looked at you longer than necessary sometimes, well, you didn’t push him about it. If you were caught staring off into space occasionally with a small smile on your lips, well… nobody asked you about that either. 

The weird, unnamed thing between you and Jefferson finally came to a head one night after Grace had gone to bed. You’d been with them for almost a year now by that time, and you’d found a quiet happiness you’d never thought you would. Your life had always been destined for a tolerance at best, because your life was in your Father’s hands. If he chose to marry you off then that was his right, and you’d be the one who’d have to live with the consequences. This small, warm little thing that glowed in your chest left you happy and smiling on most nights when you thought of it. 

“You smile more often,” Jefferson pointed out one night as he worked in the kitchen. He’d taken it upon himself to clean most of the pots he owned. You looked over toward him as you quietly sewed the newest dress the banker’s daughter had demanded from him. A blank stare prompted Jefferson to continue with, “When you first came here, you smiled, but it never quite reached your eyes.” He gestured to his own eyes as if in example. 

“I’m happy,” you stated it like it was an obvious thing. Maybe for Jefferson it wasn’t. You’d gotten better at reading his expressions and moods. He didn’t seem to be fully happy very often. “I smile when I’m happy.” 

He watched you closely for a few moments, and you didn’t bother to go back to your sewing. You set it down in your lap and stared back quietly. Finally, he told you, “It makes me happy that… you’re happy.” He said it as if it was a revelation to himself, as if he hadn’t stopped to think about it until this moment. 

“Yes, that’s how it works if you grow to care for someone,” you replied. Jefferson’s face froze and you stopped speaking completely to study him. “Or did I read the situation wrong? Do you not care for me?” You said it in a teasing manner, but his eyes darted away from you and for a moment hurt speared through your chest. It faded when he looked back at you and shook his head. 

“No,” he told you. “You read it right.” 

“I… I see.” You smiled a little and looked down in your lap. “That’s good, because I care for you as well.” You looked back up when you heard his footsteps draw close to you. He seated himself in the chair next to yours. His eyes didn’t meet yours, but he reached a hand out and gently took one of yours in his own. You held your breath for a moment and watched with rapt attention as his fingers slowly wove through your own. 

“It’s very hard to care for me sometimes,” Jefferson admitted, “I know. I’m a very confusing sort of person. After…” He trailed off for a moment, but you weren’t in any rush for him to continue. You waited him out until he was ready to continue. “After Grace’s mother died, I’d thought I’d never find another to care for as I did her.” His eyes went to yours and then darted away. “As of late, I find… I find that I’d been wrong.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. You opened your mouth and closed it several times. No words would come to you. Usually you were so good at conversing, but everything had flown right out of your head. You stared at him with wide, astonished eyes. Hope fluttered cruelly in your gut before you could hope to tamp it down. You didn’t want to get too excited and then have him twist this into merely friendship, but… you couldn't help yourself. 

“Grace’s mother died because of my foolishness,” he said and the words were dragged out of him almost unwillingly. His eyes looked at you for a moment before they darted away. He said the rest in a rush as if it would help to get them over as quickly as possible. “I used to… portal jump. It was because of my job that Grace’s mother lost her life. I’d… I’d heard of something that could have set us well off and we wouldn’t have had to worry about coin anymore. I tried to get it, but I was caught and… Priscilla came to rescue me when I didn’t return. She was shot and died in my arms.” 

Your fingers spasmed in his hand at the news, before you remembered he was still holding your hand and you squeezed to let him know you were still with him. He tore his gaze away from the fire to look at you, before he looked down at your interlocked fingers together. “I retired from portal jumping,” he admitted, “and I began selling mushrooms to get by. It’s worked so far, but… things are always tight. I can never provide Grace with what she wants.” 

“She’s young,” you pointed out, “and happy. I say you’re doing a good job, Jefferson.” 

Jefferson looked at you again. “You had everything provided to you that you needed, didn’t you? How much easier would her life be if I could just get the money needed for those things?” 

You shook your head. “I had everything I could possibly need, but I wasn’t _happy_ ,” you argued. “At least, not all the time. Sometimes I was lonely. My Father was cold and distant. I tried to call him something other than Father, but he insisted that decorum must always come first. When my mother passed he became further out of reach. He barely spoke with us, and only when absolutely necessary. If I hadn’t had my siblings, I think I might have-- that doesn’t matter. Grace has you, and now she has me too, for as long as you’ll both have me. She’s happy, and that’s truly what matters the most. She’s healthy and happy and whole.” 

Jefferson stared at you for several long, drawn out moments before he allowed a sigh to escape him. “Regardless,” he said and it would seem he’d decided to move past that conversation for now. “I’m not an easy man to care for or get close to. Yet somehow you’ve managed both.” His eyes bored into your own as his lips quirked at the edges. “How curious you are.” 

“I like to think I have many surprises hidden within me,” you quipped back. Your eyes searched his face and your lips curved into an easy smile. “Many more of which are just waiting for you to stumble upon them.” 

“I look forward to it,” he breathed and then leaned over the rest of the way so he could press his lips chastely to your own. The two of you sat there together for several minutes, lips pressed together and you only broke away minutely so you could breathe. The time passed in a haze of happy electricity that shot through your body and electrified your nerves. The next time you paid any attention to anything other than Jefferson’s lips, it was because Jefferson pulled back and your eyes caught site of his kiss swollen lips. 

Your own lips felt red and puffy. They twitched into a smile regardless. “I should let you go to bed,” you murmured as you fully sat back in your chair. Jefferson quirked a brow, but he didn’t argue. “And by you, I mean to say _I_ should go to bed. All the excitement has made me tired, you know.” 

Jefferson chuckled and leaned away as well. “By all means,” he said. You got to your feet and gathered your sewing materials together, before you leaned over and pressed one last simple kiss to his lips. It felt strange now that you knew you were free to do it whenever you wished. Jefferson studied you under half lidded eyes as you took a step back and angled yourself to leave. “Tomorrow,” he said when you took a step to depart and you stopped to turn back toward him. “Tomorrow, if you wish it, we could tell Grace.” He stopped for a moment and his brow furrowed in thought. “That is to say, if you wanted, we could let her know our intentions for each other--” 

“Yes,” you cut him off with the answer. It looked like he was about to work himself into a real worried frenzy if you didn’t ease him with a clear answer. “Tomorrow, we can tell Grace. Yes, Jefferson.” He grinned at you and this one showed in his eyes and made them glow. You smiled foolishly wide back at him before you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. “Goodnight,” you told him firmly this time and then left him seated there next to the fire, his eyes off in the distance as he lost himself in his own thoughts. 

Grace was overjoyed when you both sat her down the next day. “Truly?” she asked again and again. You laughed when she wrapped her arms around you in glee. You’d been worried, for a bit, that she wouldn’t want you and Jefferson to be anything more than friendly toward each other. It seemed you’d been worried for nothing. She smiled at you and then at her father. “I’m happy that you’re happy, Papa,” she told him when he still looked a bit worried. “It also means I won’t lose  (Y/N)!” 

“Why would you lose me?” you asked with a surprised laugh. Grace turned to peer at you when she replied. 

“The butcher’s son looks at you like he wants to steal you away,” she confessed in a whisper. “I was worried he’d make his move before Papa could realize how you belong with us!” 

Jefferson’s laugh is startled out of him by this news. “He does, does he?” he asked and his eyes caught your own as his lips twisted into a small smirk. “Well, we’ll have to make sure he understands that no one can steal our (Y/N), hm?” 

“Yes,” Grace agreed with a grin. “Next time we all go into the village together, we’ll all hold hands!” 

“What a perfect way to send that message,” you told her and reached out to brush some hair from her eyes fondly. “You’re right. You’re growing wiser with each year that passes, Grace.” 

Grace just beamed at you. “Do you think we can go to the meadow today?” she asked. “I’ll bring the book I’ve been reading and I’ll work on my letters!” It was a smart way to bribe you into doing what she wanted. You smiled and nodded your head. She looked at Jefferson next with hopeful eyes. He laughed and threw his hands in the air. 

“As if I could say no to my Grace,” he replied and she giggled before she jumped to her feet. She hurried off to her room to gather the things she promised to bring. You watched Jefferson for a moment, and when his eyes met your own you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. 

“I better grab my sewing,” you told him. “I’m almost done with it and then I can take it in tomorrow, maybe, for the seamstress to look over.” Jefferson merely nodded in reply and watched as you got to your feet and walked off. Your heart thrummed happily in your chest and your stomach was all twisted up, but with the happy kind of flurries instead of anything negative. 

The next few months passed easily enough. Jefferson seemed to sell less mushrooms than he usually did, but your sewing had picked up its pace. The seamstress had branched out and opened up a new shop in the port city you had originally docked in over a year ago. It meant more work for you, even though the coin still wasn’t good all things considered. You did more work for less coin, but it was something and you gave most of it over to Jefferson. Though he argued over it with you, he took it all the same by the end of the conversation. Grace needed it more than you did, and Jefferson deserved a little bit of relief from his worries. 

It’s after a day of teaching Grace how to dance in the meadow-- with laughter and bright smiles-- and playing hide and seek, that things began to come tumbling down. You walk next to Jefferson with his hand in your own, Grace on his other side as she chattered about some new book you’d picked up for her last time you’d been in the village. She had just started to get to the good part of the story when suddenly Jefferson stopped walking. 

“Jefferson?” you asked as you halted as well. Grace took another step forward, but Jefferson reached out and clasped her arm to stop her. You followed his gaze to the cottage to see an unfamiliar carriage in front of it. Your heart stopped for a moment before it took up its beat again a moment later. For him to react the way he was it would appear Jefferson recgoznied the coach, though you didn’t. “What’s the matter?” 

“Will you take Grace back to the meadow?” he asked you in an even voice. You stared at him in surprise and then looked at Grace. She seemed to be just as confused and worried as you. “I’ll come fetch you both once I’m done handling this.” He handed you the basket that you’d used to cart Grace’s things to the meadow and paused a moment to give you a solemn look. “Can you do that for me, (Y/N)?” 

“Yes, of course,” you replied instantly. You searched his gaze for a moment and your frown grew fiercer. “Is everything alright?” 

“I’ll explain after it’s over,” he told you quietly. Grace reached out and grasped the sleeve of his jacket. She tugged to get his attention and he bent down to be more on her level. “Go back with (Y/N) and stay out of sight, Grace. I’ll come back for you in a little bit.” He reached forward and smoothed her hair away from her face so he could press a kiss to her forehead. She nodded and you reached out to take her hand and guide her back the way you’d both came. You glanced over your shoulder briefly to catch Jefferson’s eyes still upon both of you. A moment later and you followed the trail of his line of sight. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” you asked her before you could help herself. 

“No,” she said and bit her lower lip. You squeezed her hand and tugged her close so you could wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Papa is scaring me. Who could be in that carriage?” 

“We’ll find out once he’s done,” you told her. “Come on. I’ll teach you a few more steps to that dance we started earlier.” Grace followed you along back to the meadow. The two of you tried to dance together, but you found that neither of you paid enough attention to get the steps right. After a few minutes of fumbling around you both collapsed together on the ground and stared up at the sky. Your ears were trained for any sounds someone would make if they approached, but none reached you yet. 

He finally returned right when the sky was darkening. You both clambered to your feet gracelessly and Grace hurried toward her father and threw her arms around his waist. He scooped her up into his arms and clung just as desperately to her. “It’s been handled,” he announced with false bravado. You could tell there was more to the story than this, but his eyes were focused on Grace. It was clear he didn’t want to say more until he spoke with you once Grace was asleep. You allowed the matter to drift away from you. 

“Who was it, Papa?” Grace asked. Jefferson walked back up the path towards the cottage and he reached out a hand to take your own. Your other held the basket, which he seemed to have forgotten all about in his haste to pick up Grace. You didn’t mind carrying it, however, so you didn’t bother to bring it up. “Who was in the carriage?” 

“No one,” he answered. “They got lost and hoped I could help them.” 

“But why did you send us away?” Grace pressed on. 

“In case they weren’t merely lost travelers,” he said and made a face up to her. She giggled and seemed to have allowed him to dodge the matter entirely. Grace trusted Jefferson blindly since he was her father. She didn’t ask further about it that night. You all ate dinner together, and then Grace went to bed early, tired from the activities earlier. 

“So,” you said once he returned to sit beside you, “who was it truly?” 

In a hushed voice he told you more about the visitor and what she had to do with him. It had something to do with his old days of portal jumping and how he made money before. “I turned her down,” Jefferson said as he stared intently at you. It seemed he wanted you to know he wouldn’t make the same mistake for more money. “We make enough to support the three of us. We don’t need to resort to the old ways for coin.” 

Your eyes searched his face before you nodded. “That’s a good choice,” you told him and reached out to twine your fingers with his own. “I’d have done the same.” 

“But…” Jefferson trailed off. You knew there would be a but. “What if I made the wrong choice?” he asked you and his eyes didn’t meet your own. He stared into the fire and seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Some days when I don’t sell enough mushrooms, it’s hard to scrape enough together to eat. It would help us if we had more money, if we had something to fall back on. We wouldn’t have to scrape by like we do.” 

“Jefferson,” you murmured and your fingers squeezed his own. “You didn’t choose wrong. You chose to protect Grace from losing you. You’d said it yourself before that portal jumping is dangerous business. You’d hate yourself to eternity in the afterlife if she lost you.” 

He turned to stare at you with haunted eyes. “I could afford so much better for her with the coin,” he told you in a low murmur. “What sort of wedding can I hope to offer you in the future? I couldn’t even afford a ring if I wanted to.” His eyes darted away and looked at the fire again as he fidgeted. It was clear his thoughts had consumed him as of late over this last idea. 

You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. You smiled as you pulled back and teased him with, “You wish to offer me a wedding at all? I suppose you shall be the groom and I the bride?” It pleased you to know his intentions were serious toward you. You’d barely allowed yourself to hope for a future such as what he painted. It was still astonishing to even think you could marry for love now, and with Jefferson next to your side and Grace in your life. 

Jefferson flushed in response and wrapped an arm around you. He pulled you practically into his lap and hugged you tightly to him. His nose brushed your neck as he clung to you. You wrapped your own arms around him after you had released his hand and settled more firmly against him. It brought you comfort to have him in your embrace. You allowed yourself to enjoy it for several long moments. “Of course I wish to marry you,” he murmured against your neck and it sent a shiver up your spine. He pulled back so he could say the next part while he gazed into your eyes. “But what sort of wedding can I hope to provide you with the sort of money a mushroom seller makes?” His lips twisted into a self hating smile. “Especially with winter approaching and Grace growing out of her clothes.” 

“We’ll make do,” you whispered and placed a hand on his cheek. He leaned into the touch and his eyes slipped closed. “As long as we have one another, we’ll find a way, Jefferson.” The rest of the night passes quietly together until you become too tired to keep your eyes open. 

The next day Jefferson and Grace go into the village together, and you tend to the garden. It’d been ignored for a few weeks while you sewed, but today is a good day to lavish it with attention. An army of weeds have sprouted since the last time you’d checked and you spend much of the day to pluck them from the ground. Your hands are dirty and grimy by the time you’re done. Your name is yelled as Grace comes down the path from the village and races to meet you at the garden. 

There’s a fierce frown on Jefferson’s face when you look at him. You have a moment to wonder what’s the matter, but then Grace caught your attention once more. She waved another letter in front of your face and grinned once you had realized what it was. “My brother wrote back?” you asked and wiped your hands off on your dress. You pluck it from her fingers and open it without another word. This letter is much better than the last and filled with only pleasantries. It seemed Nathaniel was happy that you’d found a place in the world and work to keep you busy. He left a greeting for Grace at the end of the letter and you pass it over so she could read it herself. 

She’s tickled pink by the time you all enter the cottage. Jefferson has still not said anything and he goes straight to work after dinner with fabric and thread. “Do you need help?” you asked when he didn’t look up from his task when you seated yourself next to him. He shook his head in response. “Alright,” you said easily enough and pick up your own sewing. You have a lot to catch up on since you’d spent the entire day in the garden. 

The next time you bother to look up there is a definite new rabbit doll in his hands. A chuckle escaped your lips before you could stop it and you leaned forward to peer at it closer. “I hadn’t known you’re talented with a needle too, Jefferson,” you told him. He glanced up at you and quirked a small smile in response. 

“I don’t do it often anymore,” he replied, “because you’re much better at it.” 

The next day the rabbit is presented to Grace. As soon as she had it in her arms she beamed at her father and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!” she told him. “I love it!” 

“It’s not as good as the one in the village,” he lamented and you blinked in surprise at this comment. You glanced at Grace to see she had shrugged off the comment. 

“It’s better,” she told him, but he didn’t look reassured. It was between one glance and the next that he disappeared. You look around to find Grace in a corner with her dolls. She appeared to be quite happy to play with the new rabbit. 

“Where’d your Papa go?” you ask her when you can’t hear anything from the rest of the cottage. Grace glanced over at you with furrowed brows. 

“I think he had to go to the village,” she told you. Without Grace? He rarely left without Grace, and never without mentioning it to you. You frowned as you went back to your work. You’d have to ask him more when he returned. “I’m going to check on the garden,” Grace told you happily an hour later. She clambered to her feet and wandered outside. It left you alone with your thoughts as you set the sewing in your lap and stared out the window. 

Suddenly the door is opened again and Jefferson steps through. “There you are,” you cried as you got to your feet. “I had wondered--” He’s not alone. A woman steps in after him and her lips curl in distaste as she glances about the cottage. They land on you a moment later and she raised both brows at you. 

“I accepted her offer,” he told you. His eyes avoid your own. You stared first at him and then at Regina in growing horror. “We need the money. It would help us greatly, and I’d be a fool not to take her up on it.” He finally looked at you for a moment and his eyes begged you to understand. Your wide eyes flicked between him and Regina before your hands clasped together tightly in front of you. 

“I’ll just wait outside,” Regina announced with that same curl to her lips. She left right as Grace entered. Jefferson bent down to be on her level as he announced his intentions. 

“Don’t go!” Grace cried and clasped his hands tightly in her own. She was distraught and you could already see tears gathering in her eyes. You stepped forward and placed your hands on her shoulders to squeeze it comfortingly. “You don’t have to go, Papa!” 

“I do,” Jefferson told her and his eyes already looked more red than they usually do. This is tearing him apart as well, but he’d made up his mind. “I love you, Grace, and this is something I have to do.” Grace shook her head and began to cry in earnest. She fled to her room a moment later. Jefferson was left to stare at the space his daughter had occupied a moment before. He finally looked up at you and stood. 

“Please don’t go,” you whispered. It hadn’t worked when it came from Grace, but you still felt like you had to try regardless. “We make enough to get by here, Jefferson. You don’t have to do this. It’s-- I have a bad feeling about this.” The same intensely uncomfortable roiling badness had settled in your gut once more. Something about this whole thing was just _wrong_. 

“The money will help us,” Jefferson told you. “When I come back, I’ll finally have the coin to buy you that ring I’d been eying.” You blinked up at him in startled shock. “We can get married, and Grace will be happy to have a mother again.” 

“We don’t need a wedding to vow to love each other,” you told him though you knew he was set on his decision. “We don’t need a ring to be together for the rest of our lives. You don’t have to do this, Jefferson. We’re managing. We have everything we need: each other, our health and a roof over our heads. Please don’t go. You don’t have to do _this_.” 

Jefferson framed your face on either side of his hands and pressed a kiss to your lips. The tears finally spilled over and rushed down your cheeks as you gave yourself over to the kiss. Your arms flew around his neck and you pulled him to you. He dragged himself away a few minutes later and he stared intensely back into your tear filled eyes. “I really do have to do this,” he told you before he left to gather the things he’d need from his room. You’re rooted to the spot in the main room and you stare at nothing as the tears keep coming. A moment later and you could hear him saying goodbye to Grace, who’s sobbing louder than you are in her room. 

He paused in the doorway before he exited. A twist and he looked over his shoulder straight at you. You watch him and quirk your lips up a little at the corners. “Please be safe,” you whispered to him, and then he was gone. A moment later and your legs give out, so you sink to the floor and just stare at the space where you last saw him. Almost an hour later Grace wandered out of her room and came to sit next to you on the floor. You attempted to gather yourself up, but she placed a hand on your arm and looked up at you with the same pain in her gaze. 

“It’s okay to cry,” she told you in a wobbly voice. “We can do it together. It’ll make us feel better.” 

You sniffle before you tell her, “When did you get so smart?” 

“I’m a very wise seven-year-old,” she replied and you wrapped your arms around her to hug her to you. You nod against her head in response. Grace certainly did seem like a wiser child than any other one you’d met before. 

“He’ll be back before we know it,” you told her even though the words felt hollow. “You’ll see.” 

The weeks pass without much event. News that roll in from other lands are dark tidings indeed. Regina has gained power and things look dire. “How long do you think it’ll take Papa to get back to us?” Grace asked one morning while the sky rumbled overhead. 

“It shouldn’t take too long,” you replied. Portal hopping wasn’t exactly a time consuming thing, was it? You’re sure he should have been back by now, but you don’t dare utter the words aloud. Grace needed to stay cheerful about her father being returned to her. 

More days passed and you continue to sew until your fingers bleed. You hadn’t known how much money Jefferson brought in with his mushrooms until the coin dwindled in his absence. Your sewing isn’t making as much as it once was because people have ordered less clothes in the dark days that have unfolded as of late. 

“Do you think something happened?” Grace asked frantically one morning as she stared out the window at the path that led to the cottage. It had been three months since Jefferson had left. Your own hope had dwindled down to almost nonexistent at this point. A numb kind of ache had settled like another limb in your gut. 

You got to your feet and walk over to stand next to her. “Of course not,” you assured her and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “We’d know. We love him most of all, and we’d know.” 

A week after that and darkness started to creep over the lands. There are no stories of what happened to the people who were overtaken by darkness, because no one survived it. There are no tales of what happened because people vanish and those who go to find them never come back. Grace and you are seated out front of the cottage when you suddenly jolted to the realization that there is a swirling darkness in front of you both. “Grace,” you said and reached out to take her hand. You both clamber to your feet. 

“It’s all around the cottage,” Grace said in a horrified, tiny voice. Your eyes looked as well and you found that she was right. You were trapped. “I’m scared!” Grace cried and threw her arms around your waist. You wrap your own around her shoulders and hug her desperately tight to you. 

An odd calmness settled over you as you crouched further to meet her eyes. Tears are settled on her lashes and leaking down her cheeks. “Don’t be scared, Grace,” you whispered vehemently. “Just think! Your Papa might be on the other side. Just close your eyes and hug me tight, okay? It’s an adventure! Soon we’ll have a fun tale to tell your Papa when we see him again. Hold onto me, and we’ll go together, okay?” 

Grace nodded and burrowed her face in your shoulder. You began to hum a melody you hadn’t heard since before your mother had passed. It used to soothe you when you’d had nightmares of monsters hidden in the deep darkness of your family estate at night. You closed your own eyes so that, when the darkness rushed forth to swallow you both, you can’t see it.


	2. where we've been led

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first off! Sorry this took an entire month and a half almost before it was ready to be posted. I've been slowly working on it since I posted the first chapter, and it finally got completed last night! My three lovely, wonderful betas-- [TimelessMystery](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TimelessMystery), [Goodfellow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodfellow), and [Burbear](http://archiveofourown.org/users/burbear)\-- spent last night helping me to go over it and fix any mistakes or other such things. So thank you to all 3 of them! (Timeless and Goodfellow don't even WATCH Once Upon a Time, but they still jumped right into helping me)
> 
> Second of all, I need to just establish a few quick things!  
> a) The reader is involved in an abusive relationship for most of this chapter. Because of the curse, she's forced into a relationship with Bluebeard's Storybrooke counterpart. If such things squick you, then I encourage you to approach this cautiously!  
> b) The reader works for the library that's in the elementary school, not the one that's closed for most of season 1 until Belle opens it up in Season 2. Just thought I'd establish that.  
> c) By the time this chapter opens-- in the timeline of the curse-- it's already been 28 years. Emma has just arrived a few weeks prior to this opening and the curse has already begun to weaken and crumble. This is why the reader thinks, on several occasions, about how her memory is so vague and fuzzy. The curse is starting to loosen up a little and she's starting to be able to look around herself and realize "Hey, this is weird..."  
> d) Everyone has a new name, including the reader. I gave her the name Charlotte. She'll go back to (Y/N) next chapter, I promise. Here is the list for everyone's names:
> 
> reader > charlotte  
> hester > fiona  
> anne > posey  
> nathaniel > william  
> matthew > collin  
> bluebeard > ryan seever
> 
> e) last BUT NOT LEAST! You won't know who Grant is until next chapter. Don't worry about that. Don't freak out cause Hester/Fiona is suddenly married. It all gets revealed next chapter.
> 
>  **A HUGE NOTE FOR EVERYONE TOO** is that if you're not already, please feel free to follow me on my [fanfiction tumblr](http://karenawilliams-sucka.tumblr.com). I post a lot of updates about future stories, ideas, and just little rambling posts on the status of future updates for all my WIPs.
> 
> WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, I leave you with the second chapter of " _sing me baby home_ "!
> 
> P.S. Please don't kill me once you read the ending for this chapter. <3

* * *

_Twenty Eight Years Later…_

* * *

“Ms. Charlotte?” came a voice from behind the stack of books in front of you. You blinked in surprise and shoved a few of them aside to find Paige hidden behind them. She beamed when her eyes met your own. “I brought back the two books you let me borrow,” she told you as she set them upon your desk. “I was wondering if you had any more good ones to recommend?” 

“Paige!” you cried and grinned at her. She hadn’t come into the library in a few weeks, and you’d figured she’d disliked the books you’d recommended but was too nice to tell you. You reached out to pluck up the books and placed them underneath your desk to take home with you later. “We just got this new one in today that I think you’d love,” you told her and moved the stacks of books about to look for the one you’d mentioned. “Let me just see where it is… ah! Here.” You pulled it out from below the biggest tower of tomes and held it out toward her. “I’ll check it out in your name! I think you’ll love it, Paige.” 

Paige pulled up a chair and seated herself across the desk from you. “Are these all new books?” she asked. She reached out to pick up a book from the top of one stack and paged through it. “You have a lot!” 

“They were donations,” you explained to her as you went back to tape barcodes inside of their covers. “A lot of parents went through their kids’ books and gave them to the school’s library. So now my job is to get them ready for wonderful girls and boys-- like you-- to check them out!” Paige didn’t respond for several minutes as she leafed through the book she’d picked up. You glanced at it to see that it was a book of fairy tales. “Are you interested in fairy tales?” you asked her. 

Paige set the book back down on the pile and shrugged. “I haven’t read a lot of them,” she admitted. You could hear the rhythmic _thump thump thump_ as she kicked her legs back and forth against your desk. You smiled a little and grabbed the book she’d set aside. The barcode for it was easy enough to put in, and then you reached over to set it on top of the other two books you’d given her. 

“Might as well try reading them,” you told her. “Henry likes to talk about fairy tales a lot. You could even talk to him about the ones you’ve been reading!” 

Paige perked up. “He does?” she asked with a spark in her eyes. You smiled back at her conspiratorily. She picked up the book again and flipped it open to a random page to thumb through it. You went back to your own task at hand and the two of you sat in comfortable silence for several long moments. “Okay,” she said and got to her feet. You glanced up at her to see just as she tucked the books away in her backpack. “I’ll read these and bring them back! Thank you!” 

You waved as she left the library and went back to your own work. It was an hour later when your phone buzzed with a text message, which dragged you out of your own thoughts. _Are you coming over for dinner tonight,_ stared back at you from your phone. William had been insistent lately that you should spend more time with your family. You’d been good at dodging as of late, but it’d seem your brother was not going to allow that forever. 

_No,_ you texted back. Best to keep it short and to the point, or else he’d find a way to wheedle you out of your apartment. 

It wasn’t that you hated your family. Quite the opposite! You loved your brother and two sisters-- though your twin Fiona could be a bit much sometimes-- and enjoyed spending your time with them. However… your father was another matter entirely. Ever since his wife passed all those years ago-- when you were only six-- he’d become quiet and withdrawn. He mostly paid attention to his own business and ignored his children. It’d allowed you all to grow up to do whatever you pleased most times. 

Your phone vibrated again to let you know you had a new text, but you ignored it. It was time to close up the library. The rest of the school had left an hour ago, but you’d always made it a habit to stay extra in case a kid wanted to check out books before they went home. You hummed to yourself as you got everything ready for close. It was another twenty minutes later before you even exited the school building and started on your way home. 

Whenever the warmer months came around you always ended up walking to work instead of using your car. You continued to hum as you walked and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket. It was because of this that you bumped straight into someone and your purse fell to the ground a moment later. “Shit,” you muttered and looked up at the person you’d stumbled into. “Sorry!” 

His eyes watched you for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders stiffly. He didn’t utter a word as you bent and picked up your purse and its scattered contents. You got back to your feet and slung the thing back onto your shoulder. “You alright?” you asked when he still made no move to talk. 

You’d seen this guy around before, hadn’t you? You tilted your head a bit to the side as you surveyed him. A scarf was wrapped right around his neck, even though the weather was nice out and definitely warm enough that it must be stuffy to wear. His eyes raked over your face before he looked somewhere over your shoulder. “Yeah,” he told you. His own hands were balled up at his sides. 

“Sorry for running into you,” you tried again. He didn’t seem to be all there. You wondered how you hadn’t really noticed him that much before. Storybrooke wasn’t known for being huge. “Uhm, are you new here?” 

His eyes went back to your own a moment later. For a moment his eyes searched your own. It sent a weird sensation swooping into your stomach and your muscles tensed. You stared right on back at him with a quirked brow and a slight frown on your lips. Something about this guy was so _familiar_ , but you couldn’t place where you’d seen him before. “No,” he replied and then walked away without another word. You stared after him at a loss for what the hell had just happened. 

“Why were you talking to the town recluse?” came a friendly voice to your right. You blinked out of the daze you’d been in since that guy had walked away. You knew that voice. You turned around to find your older sister with a frown upon her face and curiosity in her gaze. Posey rose both of her brows at you when you didn’t immediately respond. 

“I’m sorry… who?” You had no idea what she was on about. She shook her head and stepped forward to twine her arm through your own. She started to walk in the opposite direction the guy had gone and you stumbled for a minute before you corrected yourself and walked next to her. 

“That was Jefferson,” Posey said and both brows were still high up on her forehead. You just stared back at her with a partially open mouth. “He lives right outside of Storybrooke and never really talks to anyone. I only know him because Fiona’s husband told me about him. Apparently whenever Grant goes out in the middle of the night for ice cream, he finds him shopping for his own groceries. He hates being around people. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him talk to someone before.” 

You glanced over your shoulder in the direction that Jefferson had gone as if you could still see him. He was long gone, but your stomach was still doing odd flips at the thought of him. “Huh,” you muttered as you turned to face straight ahead again. “I’ve never heard of him. Have I?” 

“How would I know?” Posey asked as she tugged on your arm and got you to turn in the direction she wanted. You realized a moment too late that it was the street to the family home. “I don’t keep up to date with your everyday life.” 

“Posey,” you said sternly. She didn’t even look over at you. “Posey, where are you taking me?” 

“Home,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s family dinner night.” 

“Posey,” you chastised loudly. “You know I don’t go to those anymore.” She just tugged harder on your arm and made you stumble a bit. She ignored you as she’d taken to doing whenever you said something she didn’t like. “Posey, I already told William I’m not going.” 

“Did you?” she asked with an air of innocence. “I hadn’t heard. Oh well! We’re already here, so you might as well come up and eat.” 

“Is Father there?” you replied, but you already knew the answer. He was always there at family dinners, though he usually cut out early. He could only spend so much time socializing with his own kin. “Last time I went to one of these, he and I got into a shouting match over Seever.” 

“It’s weird you call your boyfriend by his last name,” Posey said as she slid her arm from yours and grabbed her keys so she could unlock the front door. You ignored her statement. You’d call your awful boyfriend whatever the fuck you wanted. You hated him, and the only reason you were still with him was because of your stupid father to begin with. 

“He’s a creep and an asshole and I hate him,” you told her as she opened the door. “I’m definitely not going to call him Ryan.” 

“He’s not that bad,” Posey said as she stepped inside of the house. She wiped her boots off on the front hall’s welcome mat and then slid them off to be tucked into the corner of the entry. You followed suit and did the same. When you were done you found that Posey had started to stare at you intently. “Right?” she asked. “He’s not that bad?” 

Your eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “It doesn’t matter if he is or not,” you grumbled. “If I don’t stay with him--” 

“I thought you weren’t coming!” William cried as he came out into the hall from the kitchen. He grinned and rushed forward to scoop you up into his arms. He whirled you around a couple times and then set you back down on your feet. “We live in the same town, but most days I feel like I only see you during holidays!” 

“Ever thought maybe I do that on purpose?” you replied and stuck your tongue out at him. He threw his head back and laughed. “Is Fi and Grant here?” you asked a moment later when he’d finished his hug with Posey. He nodded. “Good, I have a question for Grant.” 

“What do you want with Grant?” asked your twin as she wandered out from the kitchen as well. Grant trailed along right behind her. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail this time instead of the usual man bun he deigned to wear. Grant raised a hand to wave at you in greeting. 

“Posey told me you’ve seen this Jefferson guy around?” you questioned. Grant nodded. “Apparently it’s weird for him to talk to people?” 

“Yeah,” Grant said with a furrowed brow. It was clear he wasn’t sure why anybody wanted to know about Jefferson at all. “Why?” 

“I bumped into him and, I don’t know, we talked a little? It’s weird, whatever, forget it,” you muttered. You waved your hands as if to dispel the words entirely. As soon as you’d said it aloud you had started to feel foolish over it. What were you supposed to say? You felt some kind of spark with a complete and utter stranger? That was way too weird. The doorbell rang before Grant or Fiona could ask you more. Your twin looked like she wanted to pepper you with questions until blood ran out of your ears. 

“Oh,” Posey said as she opened the door and found herself face-to-face with Seever. Speak of the devil and eventually he’d appear. “Hi, Ryan.” 

“Posey,” he greeted and stepped inside. Your whole body tensed into one long line of stress as soon as you felt his eyes upon you. “Grant, Fiona, William, and Charlotte. I hadn’t expected to see my lovely lady here.” He leaned forward as he stepped to stand next to you and kissed you chastely on the cheek. You attempted not to wipe it away in disgust. 

“I hadn’t known you were invited to our family dinner,” you muttered as you looked at him through narrowed eyes. He chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I’m practically family,” he replied. You got goosebumps just hearing that. If you had your way, you’d never marry Ryan Seever. The bell for the stove rang and signalled the food was ready, so there was no more talk on that for right now. Everyone moved together as a unit to go to the kitchen and set up for dinner. You attempted to stay as far away from your “boyfriend” as you possibly could. 

As of late you’d gotten more and more resentful as your family for your relationship with Ryan Seever. You didn’t like the guy. You’d never liked the guy, not even when you’d first met him. He had bailed your dad out of some crazy debt a few years ago, and apparently had been fine with never seeing a cent back. It’d made more sense about two years ago when he’d asked you out on a date. You’d turned him down and said you didn’t date but he hadn’t taken no for an answer. He’d even gone to your _father_ and made some low key threats about how he’d want his money back if you didn’t date him. 

Class A creep, you’d figured. Your father had pretty much laid the biggest guilt trip of your life on you and threatened you into going on one date with the guy. One date turned into two, and then it turned into an actual weird relationship that you despised with everything you had. There was just something about this guy that set your teeth on edge and made you distrustful. No matter what you tried, however, you couldn’t figure out what it was. 

For the most part you didn’t see Seever all that much. He was too busy with his own business-- which you’d never found out what exactly it was-- and didn’t have much time to spend around you. He was also strangely religious, so he’d always said you both couldn’t do anything that would go against his religion. Sex and making out seemed to go hand in hand with that, which was fine with you. You’d never marry the guy, so you were only too happy to use any excuse not to have to do more than hold his hand every once in awhile. 

“Charlotte,” your father said when you’d finished setting the table and he’d entered. You looked up at him and waited for him to continue. He usually only spoke when he had something to say. “William said you weren’t going to be able to make it.” 

“Changed my mind,” you told him. Posey came over to bump her hip against yours and smile. “Also Posey kidnapped me and brought me here by force.” 

Seever smiled sweetly at you from across the table, though again it didn’t reach his eyes. You’d started to notice nothing ever seemed to reach his eyes unless it was some sort of darker, nasty emotion. “I doubt Posey could force you to do anything you don’t want to,” he told you quietly. “You’re the kind of person who stubbornly does what she wants without listening to the guidance of others.” 

You stared back at him and then forced a smile onto your own lips. “I like to think that’s part of my charm,” you replied. Seever’s lips twisted into something meaner, but before he could open his mouth and insult you-- like you knew he wanted to-- Fiona plopped down the main dish on the table. 

“Let’s dish up and eat,” she said with a light cheer that she only ever employed when she knew a fight was about to erupt. “Grant helped me cook. You know how I am, Father, I’m horrible in the kitchen!” Your father smiled falsely as he seated himself but didn’t open his mouth to reply. Posey took over for him. 

“Oh, you know you’re not that bad, Fi,” your older sister said genuinely. “You make a marvelous french toast.” 

“That you do,” William said and nudged his shoulder against Fiona’s. “Grant told me the other day you experimented with a new kind of pancake?” Fiona nodded. “You gotta make them for me sometime! You used pumpkin pie spice in them, right?” 

For the next thirty minutes Fiona chattered about cooking and the garden she’d started at her home. Grant sat next to her and seemed content to let her speak the entire time. It still surprised you whenever they were around each other, because they seemed like they wouldn’t fit, but they were so happy together. You studied them for most of the night as you thought about odd relationships that just _worked_ somehow, and how much you’d trade to get something like that instead of what you were forced to have. 

“How are the kids anyway?” Grant asked you when Fiona had finally talked herself out. You brightened up considerably at this topic change. You always loved to talk about the library and the children that walked through its doors. 

“I got a whole slew of new donations for books,” you told the table. “There were some really good fairy tale books donated too! I think Mr. Gold was behind that. They seem like something he’d tried to sell at his store but no one was interested in. Sometimes he floats them my way if he can’t make a good dime off of them.” 

“He’ll want something later,” Seever replied and you ignored the comment. It would only start a fight if you listened to the shit that he said sometimes. Thus far Mr. Gold had donated plenty of books without ever asking anything in return from you. You weren’t going to let Seever get under your skin just so he could get a rise out of you. 

“Not everyone is like you,” you said when you realized you couldn’t ignore it. You could never ignore it. “Some people have a little kindness in their hearts.” 

“Seever has kindness in his heart,” your father said without taking his eyes off of his dinner. He chewed his food and refused to partake in the conversation unless it was to defend Ryan. Your father owed a lot to the man. You were sure he’d bend over backwards to please your _boyfriend_. “He helped our family out when no one else would, remember?” Your father finally looked up to stare intently at you. “Or did you forget that?” 

“Well would you look at the time?” you asked as you glanced wildly at your watch-free wrist. “I should really get going.” You clambered to your feet and picked up the plate that was only half finished. “I’ll plop this in the sink and then I gotta dash. Thanks for having me. Love you all!” You hurried into the kitchen before you could say what you were thinking and regret it. 

The rest of the family shouted goodbyes as you walked into the hallway and toward the front door. You didn’t hear Seever approach until you tried to open the door and it forcefully shut a moment later. His hand was right next to your face and you held back the urge to shrink away from him. There were still sounds that came from the dining room, so you knew that he was the only one who’d gotten up to follow you. 

“You act like I’m so heartless, my dear,” Seever breathed against your neck. You tried and failed to suppress the shiver that ran down your back. He breathed in deep through his nose and it fluttered the hair at the nape of your neck. “I care so greatly for you, and you always throw it back in my face. I wish you’d think before you spoke, Charlotte. Love and hate are such a fine line.” 

“Is that so?” you muttered through numb lips. You had nothing else to say on the matter. You hated how borderline threatening this felt. Whenever he got you alone it always felt like he was an inch away from the urge to wrap his fingers around your neck and strangle the life out of you. Your stomach was constantly in knots over the undercurrent of fear that coursed through you whenever he was in the same room as you. 

“There’s only so much a man can take,” he told you and his hand fell upon your shoulder and tightened to a painful degree. He pulled you around to face him slowly and his gaze burned into your own. “Only so much before he _snaps_. You understand, don’t you?” His free hand settled on your neck and his fingers curled loosely around your throat. Your heart thrummed where one of his fingers brushed the pulse point there. “I’d hate to marr that pretty skin of yours, but… well, I own you, don’t I? So you’re mine to break.” 

You stared over his shoulder and refused to speak. Your lips were dry and stuck together. Your pulse beat harder in your chest and your stomach was an acid bath of bile and horror. His fingers tightened suddenly around your throat and you choked in surprise before he released you a moment later. “Go home and sleep on it,” Seever whispered and leaned close so the words were breathed out across your lips. “Maybe you’ll feel in a better mood after some rest.” 

He stepped away and left you there without another word. You stared after him for several breaths before you turned and ripped the door open. You slammed it behind you and took the steps on the porch too quick and nearly stumbled to your knees. You ignored it in favor to straighten yourself and quickly walk in the direction of your own apartment. Your heart was still lodged somewhere in your throat as you walked. 

This was stupid. You shouldn’t have to put up with some stupid half veiled threats from a person you’re supposedly _dating_. If only Seever didn’t know all that shit about your family and hadn’t threatened to run you all out of town, then you wouldn’t be in this situation. You’d give anything to have a happy marriage like your twin sister and Grant did. It’d been out of left field to find out they’d gotten married… 

How many years ago had it been? You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared off into the distance. God, it felt like they’d been married as long as you’d been alive now. Forever. It had to have been several years ago, but that… that didn’t make sense either. You and Fiona were only twenty-two. How could she have gotten married years and years ago? She’d have still been in high school. 

You shook your head and cleared it of the confused thoughts. It didn’t matter how long Grant and Fiona had been married. You’d been thinking about Seever and how awful he was as a human being. This kind of random tangent didn’t matter right now. You focused your ire back on the matter at hand as you walked the rest of the way home. Your body refused to get any sleep, and you were forced to eventually watch Netflix for the rest of the evening. Anything was better than to have your thoughts go back to your borderline abusive boyfriend. 

  
  


* * *

Life didn’t settle back down for you. The pleasant haze you’d spent your life in thus far lifted and made each passing minute more stressful. Seever continued to text you almost once an hour, though you paid little to no attention to them. For the most part you ignored your phone when it buzzed on your desk unless you’d been spoken to by one of your siblings earlier that day. For the most part Seever let that slide, though whenever you saw him in person he made one or two passive aggressive comments on it. Since you didn’t care what he thought, however, the comments usually flew in one ear and out the other.

Paige came in once a week-- sometimes more, she liked to spend a lot of her time in the library with her homework while her parents were at work-- and that was a highlight of your days whenever she showed up. “I started reading the fairy tales,” she told you almost two weeks after you’d given her the book. You glanced up at her from where you’d been about to organize a shelf of books. She had seated herself at a table not too far away from you and her hair was pooled on the table she was leaned over to stare at said book. “It’s really interesting so far!” 

“Is it?” you asked as you smiled and slid a book from the shelf to set aside. The kids liked to try and ‘help’ you by trying to put books back for you, but they usually ended up wrong. No matter how many times you tried to explain there was a system to these things, they never seemed to grasp the concept and instead shoved things all willy nilly. It was a good thing you found them so cute, or else you’d be honestly annoyed. 

“Yeah!” Paige said with a large smile that you could hear in her voice. “Have you read these?” 

“Not for a very long time,” you admitted. You stopped for a moment and leaned back from the shelf. Your eyes stared off into the distance as you thought. “Though… I can’t remember the last time I read them. It must have been when I was younger, but…” The memory was foggy and you couldn’t figure out when it really was you’d last heard any of the fairy tales. “It must have been when my mother was still alive, I guess.” It made the most sense. Your mother was the sort of person who’d stay up late and read to you, wasn’t she? Your memories of her were vague at best, and outright unclear at worst. 

“You should try rereading them!” Paige told you excitedly. “If you don’t remember them anymore. They’re a lot of fun! My dad’s started reading some to me at night before I go to bed too.” You tapped your fingers against a book of shelves as you thought. “You can read along with me! We can read the same ones at the same time, and talk about them after.” 

“Your parents like that you’re into them?” You turned to look at her with a small smile. She nodded her head. “That’s good, Paige! It’s always nice when parents help with your interests. I don’t think I have enough time to read them right now though. I have so many other books! Maybe next month I’ll have some time, and I can read. Then we can talk about them.” 

“I--” Paige didn’t finish. There came a sound of the library’s door being opened and you both turned to see who it was. It was almost time to close up shop, so it was pretty rare for anyone besides Paige to be here. You blinked in startled surprise when you realized it was Jefferson who stood in the entry. You glanced at Paige to make sure you hadn’t started to hallucinate, because Jefferson was a recluse. Why was he in the library? He’d never been here before. You were sure of that. Paige had her brows furrowed in confusion as well as she stared at him. 

“Sorry,” Jefferson muttered. His eyes went first to Paige and stayed there for a moment before he seemed to tear them away to look at you. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“No, it’s alright,” you responded. You motioned your arms towards the rest of the empty library. “You’re not interrupting anything. We were just talking about a book Paige has been reading.” His eyes looked between you both again. For a moment you almost thought he looked pained and a little sad even. It vanished from his face in the blink of an eye, and you figured you must have imagined it. 

“I should go,” Paige said and hopped to her feet. She slid her things into her backpack and then plucked up the book of fairy tales. “You should try reading them too, Ms. Charlotte! I know you’re busy, but it’d be fun!” Paige excitedly told you as she stared to walk towards the exit. You grinned at her and shook your head. 

“I’m too old for fairy tales now, Paige,” you teased her and stuck your tongue out at her. She giggled before she waved one last time and then ran out the door. Jefferson stared after her for a moment before he looked at you again. You tilted your head a bit to the side as you studied him. 

“Uhm,” you said when he made no move to speak right away. “You’re… Jefferson, right?” For a moment he looked startled that you knew his name. You wavered and wondered if you should have played dumb. “The other week,” you went on to explain, “when we bumped into each other, my sister knew who you were. She told me. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I should have been paying better attention.” 

You wrung your hands together when he made no move to speak right away. Maybe you should have just ignored him and let him do his own thing? You weren’t sure if he was the type of recluse who hated being around people, especially nosey ones like you were acting currently. But you’d been so curious about him ever since you bumped into him! It was like something had been thrown inside of your head and now you felt like you saw him everywhere. You were sure that wasn’t right, but… “Anyway,” you hurried on to say when the silence stretched too long, “do you need help with something? I’m the librarian here, so if you’re looking for something--” 

“I need a book,” he said. It was the first words he’d spoken since he’d entered and apologized. You set aside the books you’d nervously started to fumble with and wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans. His eyes met your own for a moment before he looked away. “I’ve too much time on my hands. I need something to distract me.” 

“You came to the right place,” you told him cheerfully and glanced around the library. “Well, what sort of books do you like?” 

“Boring,” he responded. You lifted a brow at him and he shrugged. “I don’t want anything too… magical or anything with a fantasy setting.” 

“Alright,” you mumbled as you peered around the library. “So you want something realistic. Sure, I’ve got some books like that. They’re in the adult section though, so uhm.” You stopped and looked back at him before you shrugged. “This way!” You waved him to follow you and set off to the other corner of the room. The adult books weren’t as wide ranged as the children’s section, but there were still enough here to find something for Jefferson. Not as many adults came into the library, because it was the one that was attached to the elementary school. Since the main library had been closed as long as you could remember-- which was odd, now that you thought about it-- it meant that the only place to get books was here. 

You fumbled with a few books and then discarded them. One had magical surrealism, and he’d seemed pretty certain he wanted nothing with magic in it. You cast a few other books out of the running and finally plucked one up. “This one should be good,” you told him as you handed it over. “It doesn’t have anything flashy to it. Just a simple story. A few hundred pages.” 

Jefferson reached out and hesitantly took the book from you. Your fingers brushed and he jerked away the moment it happened. “Thanks,” he muttered as he cradled the book in his hands. It looked like he was scared to damage it. Silence stretched between you both again. You fidgeted and wondered if you should break it this time, but Jefferson did himself before you could. “You remembered me?” 

You looked up at him in surprise. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were dark with confusion as he stared back at you. “Uhm, yeah,” you said. You reached up to push a strand of (h/c) hair out of your eyes and tucked it away. “I mean, you made an impression, I guess. You... the scarf or the way you dressed, maybe?” You waved your hand toward him and then hurried to cover your words. “I don’t mean in a bad way though! I just.” You shook your head and raked a hand through your hair. “Nevermind.” 

“I’ve seen you around before,” Jefferson said after another pregnant pause. “You never seemed to notice before. I was… surprised.” His face conveyed that pretty well. He still looked like you’d slapped him across the face for some reason. You tilted your head to the side and tried to convey your own confusion. “We’ve bumped into each other before,” Jefferson explained. “You never remembered me from those times?” 

“We have?” You stopped and your eyes slid away from him. You wracked your mind, but nothing came up. All that was there was a hazy feeling that you’d forgotten a lot of things you should remember. You tried to think of any other time you’d bumped into Jefferson but none came to you. “Huh,” you said. Your head was still reeling over the fact that you’d forgotten him at all. He seemed like someone who’d be too hard to forget. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry.” You glanced up at him and your lips twitched a little in a feeble smile. “That’s rude of me, right? Not to remember. Well, I know who you are now! I’ll try not to forget again.” 

Jefferson made no move to respond. You stood there for several moments, but he seemed content enough to just study your face. You finally grew too awkward to let it continue, so you shuffled a bit and stepped back. “Let’s get that checked out for you?” you asked and raised a brow. “I have to go soon. The library’s gonna close and all that. Let’s get you settled and then we can walk out together. If you want! You don’t have to walk out with me if you don’t want to--” 

“Yes,” he said simply. You stared at him in surprise before you nodded in response. “Let’s walk out together.” 

“Okay,” you agreed and reached a hand out. “I’ll take the book back and check it out for you? Come on. The desk is this way.” You took it from him before he could agree or comment either way, then turned to head in that direction. Your heart felt like it might flutter out of your throat at any moment. This was certainly odd. You wondered what about Jefferson made you so nervous and shivery. You certainly hadn’t felt this way about anyone before in the past. 

Had you? You racked your brain, but no memory came to you. You had the sense that you _had_ felt this before-- it certainly felt familiar-- but nothing came to you as you thought on it. You did your thing with the book and looked up Jefferson on the system. It seemed he did have a library card-- you wondered when that had happened, because you certainly don’t remember him signing up for one. The weirder thing was that your name was the one in the system who’d signed him up. There was no date, but your signature was the one signing off on the card. 

“Here you go ,” you said and held the book out for him. While you had been busy checking it out, he’d been busy with his eyes on you. He shook himself back to awareness when you held the book out and reached out to take it from you. “All yours! You have to return it in two weeks though. Don’t forget! I’d hate for you to have to pay late fees.” 

“Right.” He made no move to do anything more than curl his fingers over the sides of the book and clutch it like a lifeline. You watched him for several moments before you shook yourself out of your own thoughts. It seemed the two of you were both lost in thought several times during this whole conversation. 

“Alright,” you said and leaned under your desk to grab your purse. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Jefferson snorted in response and you looked up at him in surprise. He looked just as surprised over his own reaction. A smile tilted your lips and you laughed yourself. “What?” you asked him as you stepped around the desk and made your way towards the library’s doors. Jefferson tagged along behind you. “Don’t like my phrase?” 

“It’s certainly a weird one,” he responded. You glanced over your shoulder at him and quirked a brow. “You’ve always had a way with words.” 

You opened the door and he stepped outside before you followed. “Have I?” you asked wonderingly and you furrowed your brows. When was the last time you’d spoken to him that he’d know that? You stared off into the distance and only came back to yourself when Jefferson cleared his throat. “Oh, sorry. I get lost in thought sometimes. Here, let me lock up so I don’t keep you.” You turned to do just that and tried not to dawdle with your own thoughts. 

Once that was done, Jefferson stepped up beside you and you both walked down the hall and out of the school together. “Thank you,” he said once you were both on the sidewalk out front. You turned to give him a curious look and he held up his book in response. “For the recommendation.” 

“Oh,” you said in surprise and then grinned. “No problem! That’s my job, you know. I’m supposed to be around to help the kids and anyone else, keep the library in working order, that sort of thing.” Jefferson nodded. His eyes sought yours out one last time before he tore them away. He took a step back and you raised your hand to do a little parting wave. “See you around?” 

Jefferson stared at you for several long moments before he swallowed hard-- you could see his Adam’s apple bob from the motion-- and nodded. “Farewell,” he said before he turned and walked away. You watched him for several moments and furrowed your brows again in thought. There was just _something_ about him that reminded you of someone, but no matter how much you wracked your brain, it couldn't come up with who. 

You let it go a moment later when your head actually began to hurt from the strain. Whoever he reminded you of, you supposed it didn’t matter now. You certainly had no recollection of it and it only made your thoughts fade into white noise when you thought about it too hard. Oh well. It was time to go home and make dinner. You had no more room to ponder over Jefferson and his odd ways for today. 

  
  


* * *

“You should really start answering your phone more,” your sister said once you opened your apartment door to her incessant knocking. You heaved a sigh and stepped away so that she could walk inside. There was no use trying to force her to go away now that she was here. Fiona breezed into the apartment and you shut the door behind her, turning to watch as she slid her gloves off her hands and folded them neatly into her coat’s pockets. “You’ve redecorated since the last time I came by!”

You glanced around yourself. Nothing looked too different, but perhaps you’d just forgotten? “Have I?” you asked and furrowed your brows. You’d been doing that a lot lately. It was a mark of your confusion whenever you did. 

“Yes,” Fiona said and went over to a random wall of your living room, pointing at a painting you’d hung up there. “This is new, and I don’t remember that third bookshelf.” Your own eyes went to it a moment later and you frowned. Now that she had mentioned it, those both _were_ new things. You wondered how you had completely forgotten you’d picked those up. 

“I have too many books,” you replied, which was true. You had a knack for picking up books you had no time to read, but didn’t want to let slip through your fingers. Fiona shrugged carelessly and flopped down onto your couch. “What are you doing here anyway?” 

“I tried texting you earlier,” she said and her  (e/c) eyes turned to peer up at you as you approached the couch. “You ignored them, I take it?” 

“I didn’t even hear my phone going off,” you admitted. You made a detour to grab it from your kitchen counter before you went back into the living room to sit down next to your twin. It only took a quick minute to flip through your texts. You had five from Seever-- which you _had_ heard going off earlier, but chose to ignore-- and two from Fiona. 

“Tried to invite you out for lunch,” Fiona sighed and shook her head. “Too late now. I went with Grant.” 

“Spending time with your husband?” you asked and placed a hand over your heart. You even gasped with mock horror. “How awful for you!” 

Fiona shrugged her shoulders again but a small smile hovered at the edges of her lips. “Yes, it was very grueling,” she told you in a hushed voice. She glanced around-- as if there could be someone else listening in-- before admitting, “Though I did find that I enjoyed it. I guess my husband isn’t as much of an awful ogre as I first thought. I mean, I did choose to settle down and start a family with him.” 

You laughed and shook your head. Sometimes it was hard for you and Fiona to get along. She was so different from you and more outgoing, while you tended to stick your head into books and refused to pay attention to the real world. Things hadn’t always been like this-- you were sure that you both got along much better when your mother was still alive-- but it was hard to see eye to eye most days. Today seemed like a nice day for the two of you though. They were so rarely lately. It was comforting to know you two could still slip into an easy going repertoire. “I suppose he wouldn’t be a total ogre,” you said. “Otherwise why would you have married him?” 

There was a moment where Fiona frowned and looked off into the distance. You watched her for several long seconds before she seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts. “Why indeed,” she replied and then huffed a breath out. “Oh well! What’s done is done. You know Father would have a conniption if I tossed Grant aside now, ogre or not.” 

“He does like to keep up appearances,” you agreed. Father had always been like that. Or perhaps he hadn’t been? Your memories were foggy if you dwelled on them too long. You didn’t think of the days gone long by very often because it always made your head hurt. You could barely recall your mother’s face or even her name, let alone her voice, and that was probably because so much time had passed since then. 

Fiona hopped to her feet and smoothed her hands over her coat. “Anyway,” she said as she headed back towards your front door, “I only came to check in on you. Whenever you stop responding to any of us, we start to worry Seever’s-- well, nevermind. It seems my worries were unfounded this time! Thank goodness.” 

You clambered to your feet and wandered after her. “What worries?” you asked curiously. Your heart had picked up when she’d brought up your boyfriend. Your family rarely even referenced him unless he was hanging about and sticking his nose into your business. “What do you think Seever’s done to me if I get too quiet?” 

Fiona turned away from the front door to look at you instead and her brows were furrowed. “Nothing,” she hurried to assure you. “Well, almost nothing.” You stared at her for several moments before she heaved a sigh and seemed to take pity on your confusion. “You’re not… you’re not happy with him, are you?” 

“I’ve never been happy with him,” you replied. Fiona only frowned more fiercely. “It’s not some huge secret I’m only with him because of Father’s wishes.” 

“Father’s wishes?” Fiona quirked a brow. “Did he sit you down and tell you that Seever had to be your boyfriend or else?” 

“Something…” You trailed off and shook your head helplessly. You had no idea how to phrase the situation to make it more easily understood. “Something like that, I suppose.” 

“Really?” Fiona seemed surprised by the news. You’d always thought your entire family knew already and chose not to speak about it. You furrowed your own brows in confusion as you studied her face. “I… always thought that you just saw something in Seever the rest of us didn’t know about.” 

You laughed without any humor in it. “That would mark the end of the world,” you told her and opened the door after you’d said it. She peered at you for several long, awkward minutes before she shook herself out of her thoughts. “Anyway, you better go. I’m sure Grant is waiting at home to spend more time with his lovely wife.” 

“Lovely!” Fiona said, and it seemed the topic had truly been dropped now. Her face cleared and she beamed. “Yes, well, I suppose one of us has to be the beautiful twin while the other is the intelligent one.” 

“I think we each made out handsomely with both traits,” you told her lightly and she grinned as she stepped outside. She waved a hand as she hopped down the stairs away from you and you watched her go until she was out of sight. A moment passed as you leaned against the door frame and stared off into the distance, before you shook yourself from your thoughts and hummed under your breath. “Better get back to cleaning,” you told yourself, “or else I’ll never get it done!” 

You closed the door and locked it without another thought wasted on the matter of Seever or your faded memories that hurt to drudge up.  
  


* * *

“I finished reading that book you told me about,” Paige said one day a week later. She had dragged a chair up to the other side of your desk and slid onto it. She set the book down and shoved it your way. “It was really good! I told Henry I was reading it, and he got really excited.”

“I figured he would,” you told her with a small smile. Paige kicked her feet and you could hear the thuds as her shoes hit your desk. “Hey, careful! You don’t want to damage that. I’d hate to have to tell your parents they have to buy me a new one.” 

Paige hummed to show she’d heard you and also stopped kicking. You both spent several minutes in silence. You were busy placing new barcodes on books, while Paige seemed happy enough to hum a song under her breath as she stared out a window. “Who’s that?” she asked and raised a hand to point. You glanced up and toward the window. 

“Don’t point,” you told her as you twisted around to get a better look. “It’s rude, Paige.” 

Paige dropped her finger right when your eyes settled on Jefferson on the other side of the street. He hurried out of sight as soon your eyes landed on him. “He was watching the library,” Paige told you as you tore your gaze back to her. “I’ve seen him around a few times.” There was a puzzled frown on her face when you looked at her again. 

“Him?” you asked her. “You’ve seen him around?” 

“I think so,” she said with her frown still in place. You were both silent a moment as she seemed to think it over. “I… think I’ve seen him before.” She still looked confused and now a grimace came across her face as if she was in pain. “I don’t remember.” 

“Hmmm,” you murmured and glanced out the window again, though you knew you wouldn’t be able to see Jefferson. He’d hurried away as if he was in a rush to get some place. “Well, I only just recently met him,” you told her. “I bumped into him!” 

“You did?” Paige looked up at you and her eyes cleared. A small smile came to her face. “Like that time you knocked over all those books on the cart?” 

“Hey!” you told her and leaned over to swat playfully at her shoulder. “You swore you’d never bring that up again!” Paige threw her head back and laughed with delight. “See if I ever pinky swear with you again! You don’t keep your promises!” 

“Do you think you can help me find another book to read?” Paige asked a little while later. She’d gone back to flipping through the fairy tale book she’d finished reading, and now seemed bored of it enough to ask for a new recommendation. You’d just gotten done shelving all of the returned books away. You hummed to yourself as you approached her and slid to perch on the edge of the desk. 

“I think I might be willing--” 

“Charlotte,” came a voice at the library’s door. Your spine stiffened and your entire body tensed up when you realized who it belonged to. A moment passed before you twisted your body to look at who was standing there. Seever stared back at you. “You’re closing up now, aren’t you? I thought I’d walk you home.” His eyes cut to Paige next and his perpetual frown deepened. 

“That’s right,” you said before he could speak again. You placed your hands on Paige’s shoulders and ushered her towards the door. “Paige was just leaving. Isn’t that right, Paige?” Paige turned with her mouth open as if she was going to argue, but you quickly shook your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

Paige tugged on the strap of her bag as she slung it over her shoulder. “Okay,” she told you. She gave you her best puppy dog eyes as she looked up at you. “Promise?” 

“Yes!” you said and forced a smile as you patted her lightly on the shoulder. “I have to find you a new book! Unlike you, _I_ keep my promises.” You held your pinky out, which she quickly took with her own as she grinned up at you. “See you tomorrow, Paige.” 

There was silence as she left. Seever seemed content to loom in the doorway. His eyes didn’t leave you as the silence stretched into an awkward one. “Let me grab my things,” you said when he made no move to speak first. You hurried to get your purse and keys so you could begin to close up. Seever didn’t respond to that either and just watched you as you went about your closing duties. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated as you approached the library’s entrance after all the lights had been turned off. Your eyes refused to meet his even though you could feel them boring into the side of your head. “You know how much I hate it when you ignore me, Charlotte.” 

“Paranoid as ever,” you replied and stepped into the hallway. Before you could get fully out of the library, however, Seever reached out and grasped your upper arm. He twisted it so that you were painfully jerked toward him and he loomed over you with a glare. “You’re _hurting me_ ,” you hissed, but he didn’t seem to care very much over the words. 

“You know better than to go against me,” he whispered in a dark tone. “We both know you don’t like it when I’m angry.” 

“I didn’t realize you had such a wild imagination,” you muttered as you tried to jerk your arm free. “I haven’t been ignoring you on purposes. I misplaced my phone again and didn’t hear it going off.” It was your usual excuse. Most of the time it was true even, because sometimes you forgot you even had a cell phone. You still weren’t used to people being able to contact you at any time. 

Seever stared at you hard for several long moments, and you finally turned your gaze to meet his own. You stared at him angrily and gave another pointed tug on your arm. His fingers uncurled slowly until you could finally manage to wrest it free. “Buy some super glue,” he told you in a vehement whisper, “and _seal it to your hand_ if you have to. Don’t ignore me again.” 

He turned and walked away before you could say anything else. You watched him go for a moment before you finally exited the library so you could close up. A moment later you rubbed your arm and turned to stare after where he’d disappeared. There was something _wrong_ with this entire situation. Seever had never been nice to you-- not once. He valued you being docile and submissive. He wasn’t the type of person you’d ever have pictured being with, and yet… here you were. 

You again rubbed gently at the blooming bruise on your arm as you swung your purse onto your other shoulder. Why were you putting up with such a despicable man? Even if it _was_ for your family, it was still weird to let yourself be cowed into a corner because of your father’s business. He’d never once thought about your needs or your happiness, yet you were supposed to throw away your entire life for his? He was the one who’d run his company into the ground and made it so that Seever had to save it in the first place! That wasn’t by any fault of your own. Why were you the only one paying the price? 

You’d have to find the time to meet with your father about this. It seemed like it was a conversation that had been a long time in the making. 

  
  


* * *

“Thank you,” Jefferson said as he laid the book he’d checked out on your desk. You’d been caught up in your thoughts and jumped when he appeared in front of you. You stared at him with your mouth partially open before you realized he was talking about the book.

“Did you like it?” you asked and forced a smile as you reached forward to grab the book. You began the process of checking it back into the library’s possession. Jefferson shifted from foot to foot in front of your desk, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes. His own gaze seemed to be riveted by something-- ah. He was looking at the bruise on your arm. You’d forgotten to put your jacket back on when you’d gotten warm earlier, and your sleeves didn’t cover where Seever had held you the night before. You didn’t say anything as you grabbed your jacket and pulled it back on. “The book,” you said when Jefferson seemed to come out of his own head and looked confused. “Did you enjoy it?” 

“Yes,” he told you. He didn’t move to speak further and instead studied you quietly. You stared back at him for a moment before his gaze became too heavy. You glanced back at your computer and went back to typing away at it. The silence became tense as it stretched between you both. Jefferson made no move to change the topic, and you could almost feel the question hovering in the air between you both. His thoughts were still on the bruise on your arms. You wondered if he would ask. There were so many people who ignored how unhappy you were and the clues as to why. You wouldn’t blame him if he ignored it as well. You barely knew the man-- 

Though that didn’t feel quite right when you thought it in your own head. There was something about him that made you feel as if you were both familiar to each other. “If he makes you unhappy, why are you with him?” he finally asked. For a moment everything seemed to freeze. You hadn’t expected he’d actually broach the subject. Fanciful daydreams are one thing-- you always dreamed of a lot of scenarios in the safety of your own head-- but this… You turned so you could peer up at him with a frown on your lips. 

“I beg your pardon?” It was better to pretend not to know what he’d been referring to. Wasn’t it? That’s what polite society would dictate. Not that you ever listened to what others wanted you to do-- did you? Your memories were all scattered and faroff whenever you tried to think about things like this. You were certain there were times you went against what others thought proper, but you couldn’t recall any of those situations when you stopped to ponder over them. 

“That man you’re with,” Jefferson said and his eyes refused to meet yours this time. He looked upset, as if the very idea of Seever and you being together was unpleasant. “If he makes you unhappy, then why don’t you leave him?” 

You opened your mouth and closed it several times when no words would come out. What a thought! If you didn’t like Seever-- if you could barely tolerate being around him, if you dodged his every attempt at being near you-- then why were you still with him? It was like the idea had never bloomed inside your head before. You didn’t have to date him. You could leave him. It was all very well and good to help your family, but did you really have to sacrifice yourself to this man for your father’s business? Perhaps he should rebuild and start over. He had to learn from his own mistakes, didn’t he? You buying him more and more time at the cost of your own happiness was… it was unthinkable. The very idea made your stomach tighten with displeasure. Why had you even agreed to this in the first place? 

“It’s… complicated,” you finally managed to mutter. How were you supposed to explain this entire situation to a man you barely knew? You could barely wrap your own mind around it, and it was a situation you were in yourself. You weren’t sure how to properly phrase the entire ordeal for someone else to understand. 

“Try me.” Jefferson actually pulled up a seat and perched on it across from you. Your brows furrowed as you stared at him in shock. He didn’t look like he was in any rush to leave or press you to speak before you were ready. He just peered at you with a sad expression and a slight twist of unhappiness to his lips. “I don’t have anywhere else I have to be. I have time.” That was… that was really depressing to think about. Jefferson was always on his own and it was widely known that he lived in that large house of his by himself. It was so lonely to think about, now that you were seated here and staring back at him. A little of your defenses crumbled and you looked away. 

This entire situation was ludicrous, but… it would make you feel better to get it off your chest. “My father,” you began and actually took your hands away from the keyboard and folded them in your lap. “He… after my mother died-- no, I think it was much later than that.” You couldn’t remember. The more you tried to think about it, the harder the tendrils of your memories were to grasp onto. “I-- it’s all very foggy, but sometime after my mother passed, something happened with my father’s business. Seever-- the man I’m with-- he offered to bail my father out.” 

You didn’t speak for several minutes, so Jefferson said, “Okay,” as if just to reestablish he was still listening. You looked at him helplessly before you shrugged one shoulder and sighed. 

“He… his payment that he wanted, it was me. He told my father that if I agreed to date him that he would consider my father and him squared. He told him that he’d liked me for quite awhile and had tried to approach me, but that I hadn’t given him the time of day. He wanted--” You trailed off and shook your head. Now that you were saying it aloud it all sounded like such an impossible situation. You’d gone along with it without any complaints at the time, but now that you were going over the memories you wondered why that had been the case. 

“He bought you,” Jefferson stated. You nodded. That was pretty much how the situation had happened, though it didn’t stop you from cringing at hearing the words aloud. It sounded so barbaric, the way he said it, but… you supposed it _was_. It was all very medieval and old fashioned. This was also the first time you’d heard the words said. This was the first time you’d really stopped to have this type of conversation about your relationship with Seever. 

The silence loomed once more. You made no move to interrupt it this time, and Jefferson appeared like he was thinking over your words. “They’re adults,” he finally muttered a few minutes later. “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your happiness for them. If they can’t take care of themselves, then why should you have to do it for them?” 

He had a point. You had to admit that. You furrowed your brows and sighed one last time. “You’re right,” you agreed. You deflated a little as you said the words. “Of course you’re right. It’s something I’ve been coming to terms with as of late, that something has to change. I can’t keep-- I can’t be with him like this anymore.” You shook your head and then forced a small smile to your lips. “I’ll think about what you said, Jefferson,” you finally told him when you couldn’t find what else to say. 

Jefferson nodded. “That’s the best I could hope for,” he said after a brief hesitation. “I think you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy.” 

You stared at him for several long moments before your smile turned more genuine. “I already have that,” you told him truthfully. “Our visits, they make me happy.” 

Jefferson’s face flushed and he looked at a loss for words. He stared you with his mouth partially open a moment before he snapped it closed. “I have to go,” he finally said and got to his feet. 

“Thank you for talking about this with me, Jefferson. I’m sorry if I overstepped myself there. I know we don’t know each other that well--” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jefferson told you. It looked like he’d said it before he could think on it, however, because the next moment he looked upset that the words had left his lips at all. He took a step away from your desk and did a weird little bow towards you. “I feel the same,” he admitted in a rush. “You didn’t overstep. There’s… something I must do before we can get closer. I’ll--” He stopped and shook his head. “Goodnight.” You got to your own feet to follow after him when he turned to leave, but he had already walked rapidly toward the door. 

“Thank you,” you called one last time. He stopped in the doorway to look back at you for a moment and tipped his head toward you, a hand waving from his forehead towards you fluidly before he exited. You watched the spot where you’d last seen him for several minutes before you shook yourself out of your stupor. You must not be the only one who felt like you knew him, you reasoned. The words he said and the surprised look on his face tipped you off about that much. 

You plucked your cell phone from your purse and sent a quick text to your brother. He answered a moment later in the affirmative. Father was at home right now, and why did you need to see him? It was rare for you to want to be in the same room as the man. You didn’t respond. This was something you and your father had to speak about privately. 

It didn’t take long to get to your father’s house. Thankfully you still had the key you’d grown up with, so you were able to let yourself in. “Father?” you called out as you set your purse down on the table in the front hall. You heard shuffling and then your father stepped out from his study at the end of the hall. He didn’t bother speaking. Instead he furrowed his brows and stared at you with a clear question in his eyes. “Do you have a moment?” 

“It’s rare that you find your way here on your own,” your father pointed out. It wasn’t like he really needed to state that either. Your father and you hadn’t gotten along in years. The whole Seever situation hadn’t helped, but the two of you had never been close. Ever since your mother had passed, things just hadn’t been the same in your family. Your siblings and you were close-- you had your problems with Fiona at times, but she was still your twin sister-- but your father was an entirely different story. 

“We have a talk that’s long overdue,” you told him and swiped your sweaty palms against your thighs. Your father didn’t bother to ask what it was. It was obvious he already had an inkling about what this was regarding. He gestured for you to follow him inside of his study. You stepped forward and let him close the door behind you as you surveyed the room. The last time you’d seen the inside of this room was… gosh, what felt like years and years ago when you’d been told you had to date Seever. 

“Would you like to take a seat?” your father asked and you turned to find him pulling a chair out from in front of his desk for you. You sat yourself with a nod of thanks. Your father seated himself behind his desk and rapped his knuckles smartly against the desk. It was a nervous tick, one you hadn’t seen him use in many years. It was clear he wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. “What did you come here to talk about?” 

“I’m sure you know, Father,” you replied gently. You weren’t sure how to go about this topic. Should you go straight at him and angrily shout at him for this? Should you try to be understanding? The man had been worried he was going to lose his entire livelihood-- his business, his house, the things that helped him to take care of his family after his wife had passed. You weren’t heartless. You wanted to believe your father loved you and had been pained at having to pretty much sacrifice your own happiness for the rest of the family. 

“Ryan Seever,” your father said. You watched him for a few more moments but he made no move to say more. He merely stared back at you with an unreadable expression. 

“Yes,” you sighed out. “This is about Seever. I’ve--” You paused and mulled over your words. “I’ve been thinking lately, you see, and… Father, this whole relationship has always been a sham, and I know you know that. I can’t even clearly remember why I agreed to date him in the first place, and now…” 

“Now you wish to throw everything away,” your father said in a tense voice. You glanced up at him to find him watching you closely. You bit your lower lip and shook your head. 

“I’m not throwing anything away,” you told him. “There’s nothing _to_ throw away. Whatever I have with Seever, it’s not a relationship, Father. It’s more like he was my jailor than anything else.” You clutched your hands together tightly in your lap as you attempted hard not to glare at the man who’d raised you. “I understand why you asked me to do this, I really do. Your business, the family home, everything, but… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend to be with a man that I don’t love. Whatever happens, we’ll have to deal with it together as a family.” 

“You’ve always believed pretty words over the cold reality,” your father said after letting the silence stretch awkwardly between you both. You flinched before you could control your reaction and attempted not to let the hurt show on your face. “What do you want us to do, Charlotte? Seever owns everything we have. He’ll kick us out of our home, he’ll make us homeless and destitute. You want me to, what, stand by you while you throw away everything? All the hard work, all the pain that went into everything. You want to destroy everything because you’re not _in love_? Because you’re not _happy_? What a foolish child you are.” 

“A foolish child I am?” you asked and you surged to your feet. “I’m the same _foolish child_ that’s apparently saved your business and home!” 

“If you never wanted to do it,” your father said as he stood as well, “then why did you agree in the first place?” 

You were left to stare at him with an open mouth. Your eyes searched his own and you clenched your fists at your sides. You had no answer for him. The reasoning behind why you’d gone along with this was lost to you. It had happened so long ago. Everything was draped in a fog that you couldn’t hope to sift through. “I…” You shook your head and bit your lower lip. “I don’t _know_ ,” you replied. “I just know that I can’t do this anymore! I can’t be with a man who’d rather raise a hand to me then hear me disagree with him. He’d rather I be quiet and docile than who I truly am! What sort of life is that for me, to be in fear of the man who I’m supposed to love?” 

“Love,” your father scoffed. “Bah. Who needs love?” He threw his hands into the air and moved towards the door to his study. “I’ll hear no more of this.” He opened it and stepped aside so he could sweep an arm towards it to show you out. “You’re having a mood. Go sleep on the things you’ve said, and in the morning you shall hopefully have regained the reasoning behind why you agreed to date Seever in the first place.” 

“Who needs love?” You were aghast. “You loved mother. You above all else should know--” 

“Your mother and I were different,” your father replied cooly. “Love was never involved.” 

You stared at him with growing horror. “Love was never…?” The memories were old-- faded with time and almost forgotten-- but you could have sworn they’d been happy together. Mother smiled often, and… well, father actually wasn’t really in your memories. At least, not in the ones where your mother was involved as well. They’d never really been around each other all that often, but you had always thought-- you’d always believed that love was between them. 

Your father looked confused himself. His brows furrowed and he stared off into the distance. “We married because…” He trailed off and squinted hard at the far wall. “I don’t remember why we married, but clearly we did. I can tell you, however, that love had nothing to do with it. I tried to tell her not to fill your head with notions on the subject, but it’s apparent now that she ignored my request.” 

Your mind was still having a hard time wrapping itself around this revelation. Your father turned his gaze back towards you and raised his brows. You stared back at him and willed him to reveal it had been a cruel trick. It felt like all the things you’d thought you’d known about your parents had been a dust screen you hadn’t bothered to look through. “I…” Words escaped you. You had nothing left to say. 

“Go home and rest,” your father said in a slightly more gentle voice. Though it wasn’t kind, it wasn’t as cold or cruel as it had been previously. He just looked tired now. “Things have been… difficult for our family as of late. Rest may do you good.” 

“Right.” You stepped towards the door and paused in the frame so you could turn back to peer up at him. “It seems you’re tired as well, Father. You must have said some things you didn’t mean, such as not loving mother.” You paused a moment and your eyes searched his. He didn’t appear as if he was regretting his words, but it had always been hard to read your father’s moods and thoughts. He had perfected his poker face long ago. 

“Love only hurts you in the end,” your father responded. “It’s better not to love at all. Goodnight, daughter.” He shut the door before you could reply. 

You were left with your reeling thoughts and the complicated emotions surging through you. You took a step away from the door and then pulled yourself out of your own head. “Goodnight,” you whispered weakly at the door before you headed for the front door. You were sure your father was wrong. You wouldn’t change your mind just because you got some sleep tonight. These things had been floating in your head for quite awhile. They had solidified over the last few weeks, and with a certainty that had started to take root inside, you knew that your relationship with Seever was on numbered days. 

  
  


* * *

You found it while you were locking up for the night on Friday. Your hand settled over it and you lifted it after a moment of hesitation. “Paige,” you sighed as you studied the pretty red coat. You’d hate for her not to have her coat over the weekend, so you accepted the fact you’d have to walk to her parents’ house to return it. You’d been there before once or twice and you knew her parents-- they were nice people, though something about them with Paige always through you for a loop-- and they’d be grateful for you bringing the coat back.

You locked up and set off in the direction of Paige’s house. The wind was brisk tonight, and it had gotten dark early today. You placed the coat over your arm and then shoved your hands into your pockets to try and chase the chill away from them. The walk didn’t take long. Storybrooke was large, but it never took long to walk from one end to the other if you knew where you were going. The lights were on inside the house and you ran up the front steps to knock loudly on the door. 

“Why hello,” Paige’s mother greeted when she opened the door. “Charlotte, what can we do for you? Come inside! It’s so cold out.” She stepped aside so you could enter and closed the door after you. You pulled your hands out of your pockets and held the coat out. 

“Paige forgot this,” you explained and blew a hot breath onto your frozen fingers. You rubbed them together as you smiled at Paige’s mother. “I figured I might as well swing by to give it back. She came by earlier today to get a new book.” 

“She reads so much more often because of your influence,” Paige’s mother admitted. “She used to never be interested in books, you know. She was always so bored growing up, and she stared out the window a lot like she was waiting for someone.” Paige’s mother trailed off and shook her head. “But ever since she started going to the library and getting books from you, she’s been filled with energy and happy as can be!” 

Your heart clenched and you smiled. “I’m glad,” you said. “She’s a wonderful kid. You both must be so proud of her.” You couldn’t remember a time before Paige had been a constant visitor of yours. She always skipped in with a happy smile and a million questions to ask you about books or other things. 

“We really are,” she agreed. There came a yell from the other room and Paige appeared a moment later. Her hair was askew and it was apparent she had hurried out to greet you. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked excitedly as she ran forward to hug you. You smiled down at her and patted her atop the head. The girl scrunched up her nose and made a face at you for it. She hated when you patted her on her head, like she was some little kid. Paige’s mother held out her coat and raised a brow. Paige shuffled a bit and laughed softly. “Oops! I thought it was cold when I came home today.” 

“Yeah, I suppose it would be colder if you’re not wearing your coat,” you told her teasingly. “I found it in the library on the desk you were at earlier. I figured I’d bring it home for you.” 

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Paige asked happily and then looked at her mother a moment later. It seemed she’d realized that she should probably make sure her mom was okay with that invite. “I mean, can she stay for dinner?” It was clear Paige was too excited at the prospect to take a negative answer easily. Paige’s mother didn’t even have to think about it however and she nodded a moment later. Paige grinned cheerfully up at you. “We’re going to have meatloaf! Do you want to stay?” 

You would feel awful if you turned her down, so you agreed after only a moment of hesitation. The dinner went on without a hitch. Paige’s father greeted you when you entered the dining room and only seemed a little surprised. Paige chattered on about school and the book you gave her-- which she had started the moment she got home-- and about Henry who she had started to befriend. The food was well made and you complimented both of Paige’s parents on it. 

“I should head home,” you said a few minutes after everything was done. They had refused to let you help clear up and you felt awkward just sitting there with nothing else to do. “I’ve stayed long enough, I think.” 

“Aw,” Paige said with a frown. “Really?” 

“Paige,” her mother chastised. “Charlotte has a home to get to and her own life! We can’t eat up all of her free time. She’s probably excited for her weekend. Aren’t you?” Paige’s mother’s eyes turned to you as she said the last part and you smiled back at her. 

“I am excited!” you agreed. “Aren’t you, Paige? Saturday morning cartoons! Those are the best part of the weekend.” 

Paige sighed. “I guess,” she said and then slid out of her seat. “I’ll walk you to the door! Is that okay, mom?” Paige’s mother didn’t seem to think it was a bad idea, because she let Paige grab your hand and tug you towards the door. You bid her goodbye and called a farewell to Paige’s father in the kitchen as you followed their daughter. She stepped outside onto the brightly lit porch with you and closed the door behind her. It was clear she wanted to say something to you, so you shoved your arms into your coat and zipped it up as you waited. “Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?” she asked finally as you tucked your hands into the pockets of your coat. 

“What do you mean?” you asked and furrowed your brows in confusion. 

“Like,” Paige began and bit her lower lip. “Do you ever feel like you’re supposed to be somewhere else?” She looked up at you with large, worried eyes. “I just, sometimes I feel like this is all wrong.” 

“What’s wrong?” Your stomach twisted unpleasantly. Sometimes you did get those eerie moments where everything felt weird and displaced, but you had thought it was just you. Something in you was upset at the prospect of leaving Paige alone, especially if she was feeling so sad and alone. You ignored the tight feeling in your chest and tried to push past it. 

“Henry says everyone’s part of a fairy tale,” Paige finally admitted. “I asked him about me, but he said that was classified and he couldn’t tell me.” 

“Oh,” you muttered and relief filled you. “The fairy tales. Mary Margaret told me about Henry’s fascination with them. It’s just pretend, Paige.” You reached out and placed your hand gently on her shoulder. “But sometimes it’s okay to feel like things are strange and out of sorts. It happens to everyone.” 

“It does?” she asked and she peered up at you with wide eyes. You nodded your head. “Okay,” she said after a moment’s pause. She sucked in a large lungful of air and then let it out a second later. She still didn’t look completely convinced, but it seemed she was ready to try and ignore it for now. “If you say so!” She smiled up at you and then waved. “See you on Monday!” 

“Bye, Paige,” you called as you hopped down the stairs of her porch and headed off down the road. Now that it was later and darker the trees felt like they were looming over you and pressing in. You shook off your own feelings of displacement as you walked along back in the direction of town and where your apartment was. 

Because Paige had brought it up, now the idea of not belonging was all you _could_ think about. This wasn’t a new feeling, you realized as you pondered over it. You’d been feeling like it for quite awhile. It wasn’t foreign or strange to have it simmering on a backburner in your head, you found the more you thought over it. This wasn’t something that had just suddenly cropped up one day. You’d _always_ felt like you didn’t belong for as long as you’d been part of Storybrooke. 

Your thoughts were a halestorm in your head when you suddenly knocked into something. You stumbled back a bit and your eyes flew up to meet with Jefferson’s. It seemed he had been walking along the deserted street as well and you hadn’t noticed him. “Oh!” you said and glanced around to see the two of you were the only ones out on the street right now. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t-- I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Jefferson shifted from one foot to the other and reached up to tug his scarf more securely around his neck. “You’re always knocking into me,” he pointed out. His tone suggested he was trying to be teasing, but it came off a bit wrong and the warmth of the joke didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked you over before his eyes settled on your own again. He looked more lonely than you had been feeling before. 

“It’s one of my many talents,” you said in a teasing tone. It made you feel better to try and cheer him up. “Running into people who’d rather be alone.” 

Jefferson looked at you again with startled confusion in his eyes. He’d torn his gaze away when you’d started to speak but now he studied you closely. “Who says I’d rather be alone?” he asked. 

“You give off that sort of air,” you admitted and waved your hands about at him. “I just always got that feeling from our interactions.” 

Jefferson mumbled something at first, before he raised his voice and said, “It’s wrong.” He paused a moment and seemed to weigh over his next choice of words carefully. “There are people I want to be around very much,” he said slowly, “but it hurts to be so close and yet so far.” You furrowed your brows and stared at him with a frown on your lips. 

“What do you mean?” you asked when he made no further move to speak. Something tickled at the back of your brain over the words, but you couldn’t put your finger upon what it was. 

Jefferson shook his head. “I should go,” he told you. “I don’t want to keep you out in the cold. Goodnight.” He left a moment later and you turned to watch him go. Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as he walked away and you watched his back disappear into the trees. Something made you feel like you should know what he was talking about, but no matter how much you wracked your brain, nothing came to you. 

  
  


* * *

You didn’t see Jefferson again for several weeks. You actually didn’t see him until a week after you brought him up in conversation with Posey. “There’s just… something about him that’s so familiar,” you had admitted to Posey one night when she’d come over to your apartment. The two of you had been sipping wine and watching something random on Netflix when you’d approached the topic.

“You’ve never spoken to him before in your life,” your sister said gently. “When you bumped into him a few weeks ago, that was the very first time, Charlie.” 

“I know, it’s just…” You trailed off and stared at the TV with unseeing eyes. “I don’t feel like that’s true.” 

Posey reached out and set her hand gently atop one of your own. “Charlie,” she murmured, “do you think this is because you’re so unhappy with Seever?” You looked up at her sharply to find her lips already turned down into a frown. “I know you’re not happy with him.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes,” she admitted. “We’ve all started to realize that lately. If you’re not happy with him, then why are you dating him?” Honest curiosity colored her tone. You looked back at the television because it was easier to look at then her open expression. 

You swallowed hard before you said, “A few years ago father approached me and explained that Seever would save the family business and our house if… if I dated him. He explained that it was about to go under because of some bad investments or something, I can’t remember anymore, but that everything would be saved if I dated Seever, and…” You trailed off and clenched your fingers tightly in the fabric of your pants. “I don’t know,” you admitted honestly. “At the time I went along with it, but for the life of me I can’t remember why I did now. Whenever I think about it I’m confused and unsure why I ever let myself get into this situation.” 

Posey’s hand tugged at your own and her fingers intertwined with yours. “You shouldn’t have to do this at all,” Posey said. “This isn’t a situation Father should have ever approached you with.” 

“I,” you began and looked up to finally meet her eyes. “I felt like I had no choice at the time.” 

“I know this doesn’t help you now, but,” Posey trailed off and then squeezed your hand, “there’s _always_ a choice.” 

“Something back then made me feel like there wasn’t,” you told her. “He’s been…” You trailed off. It was one thing to talk about being in a relationship you didn’t want, but to admit you’d gone along with it and been threatened during it? “I don’t feel safe around him,” you whispered. You looked at your sister to see her brows wrinkled and worry in her gaze. “He’s been getting angrier with me, and… sometimes he gets physical.” 

“He hurts you?” she asked in a tight voice. You looked at her and then away before you nodded. “Does Father know?” 

“I had told him Seever would rather raise a hand to me then let me have my own opinions or life,” you admitted. “I never outright told him everything, but…” 

“He knows,” Posey said in a grim voice. The look in her eyes made it clear that she knew Father was smart enough to have pieced it together. She gripped both of your hands in hers now and tugged them into her own lap. “If Seever is abusing and blackmailing you, then you should break it off,” she said firmly. “Nothing is worth you having to go through this, Charlotte. _Nothing_.” 

“But he’ll--” 

“I know what Seever will do,” Posey said and nodded her head. It was apparent she also didn’t think anything of it. “That’s something Father will have to worry about. He’s the only one in the family home, and the only one handling the business. The rest of us will be just fine. If he needs a place to stay, he knows where to find us and he has his words. He can ask. He can’t expect you to do this for him any longer.” 

“Is it really that easy?” you asked in a weak voice. Posey’s firm gaze met your own and she nodded. It had never felt like it would be this easy before, but… having Posey phrase it this way, it really did feel like it could be that simple. 

“Yes,” she told you. “Break up with him over the phone or by text. If he insists on seeing you, then we’ll ask Grant and William to be there. You’re not going to be alone anymore, Charlotte. We’re your family and we love you. I’m sorry we didn’t see soon enough what was going on, but we’ll help you fix this. You can be happy.” She squeezed your fingers and released them a moment later so she could wrap her arms around your shoulders and pull you into a hug. 

“Posey,” you breathed as your hands came up to hug her back. You fought hard so you wouldn’t break down into tears like you felt you might any moment. “ _Thank you_.” 

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” she said a moment later when you both released each other. She reached up to wipe a tear or two of her own away from her eyes. “I’m just sorry I didn’t realize on my own what was going on. I wouldn’t have ever let Father talk you into this if I’d known, Charlotte. You know that, don’t you?” 

“Of course I do,” you told her. It was clear she felt somewhat guilty for this, though why you had no idea. Sometimes she tried so hard to step into Mother’s place for everyone. She was the eldest sibling and felt like she had to take the weight of all the family troubles onto her shoulders. “It’s not anyone’s fault, Posey. I’ll send him a text and let him know that things are over.” 

“Good,” Posey said and smiled. “If you’d feel better, you can come stay with William and I. Or I’m sure Fiona and Grant would be thrilled to have you! Fiona needs more help decorating the nursery for when the baby comes and she’s been trying to get me to come over for _ages_ to help.” 

“I think I’ll be fine for now,” you told her with a soft smile, “but if that changes, I’ll let you all know.” 

“Okay,” she said and then reached out to start the movie again. “Let’s get back to this. I hear it’s supposed to be really good! Or it would be if we actually paid it any attention, I suppose.” You laughed and settled back into the couch, pressed up against your older sister and enjoying the familiarity of her being near you. It was a comfort to know that you had your siblings to back you up. 

As expected, the next day when you sent the breakup text to Seever, his reaction was to call you. He continued to call you every two minutes for an hour, but you refused to pick up the phone. Finally he texted you back with a demand to answer your phone. You replied that there really was no reason to, because you’d done your thinking and there was nothing more to say. He went back to calling you every ten minutes for three hours after that, but you remained firm. 

Toward the end of your work day, after Paige had bid you goodbye and left, you were just putting away the last books for the day before you would start to lock up. You should have expected Seever to show up at your job, but it had escaped you to prepare for such a situation. “You and I need to talk,” his voice said and startled you out of your thoughts. You turned around to find that he had snuck up behind you and his face was like a thundercloud, dark and stormy with anger. 

“No,” you told him as you attempted to slide to the side and get around him. “We really don’t.” 

He reached out and grabbed your arm. A moment later and he twisted it so he could use it to shove you back into the stack of books. “Yes,” he said in a dark voice, “ _we do_.” He slammed you against the books again and the shelves teetered precariously. You cried out and tried to jerk your arm away but he held fast. “Do you really think you could just send me a text and that would be the end of that?” he asked you in a furious whisper. 

“Oh, you mean did I think you’d be a civil adult? I suppose I shouldn’t have presumed so much--” He pulled you forward and then slammed you harder against the books. Your head smacked into the metal of a shelf and you gasped in pain. “Let go of me!” you yelled and began to struggle to try and free yourself. “You can’t just come in here and throw me around! It was never an okay thing to do, and it certainly isn’t now! You can leave, or I’ll be calling Sheriff Swan.” 

“Like she could do anything,” Seever sneered. It was clear from his tone what he thought of Emma Swan. She’d been here for several months and still a lot of the older locals barely trusted her, let alone viewed her as one of them. “Your Father agreed you’re _mine_. You don’t get a say about when that ends. I’m the one who tells you when I’m through with you, and I’m not through with you yet.” 

“What century do you think this is?” you yelled as his grip on your wrist tightened. He had begun to bend it further and further towards an unnatural angle. You whimpered and tried to rip it free, but his fingers were too tight around your arm. “I’m not some item you own! You can’t force me to do something against my will, Seever, that’s _illegal_!” 

Seever’s face was quick to turn red in his anger. His free hand came up to grip your neck and force your head up so you’d meet his eyes dead on. “I can do exactly that,” he whispered venomously. “I _own_ you. Your father gave you to me to pay off his debts. Do you think I care what you think? Do you think it matters if you say no?” He punctuated each sentence by squeezing his fingers tighter and tighter around your throat. Your gaze swam and you tried to pull away again, but it made no difference. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this, but you _have no say_ in when this is over. It’s not over until I say it is, and I’m thinking I might just be ready for a spring wedding,” he sneered. “You’ve been so insistent you won’t fuck me until you have a ring on your finger, and I’ve been feeling generous. I thought I might go to Gold’s and buy you a pretty little bauble to put on your finger.” 

You jerked backward-- the opposite direction he probably expected-- and managed to break free of his grasp in his surprise. You then launched your full weight forward and knocked into him hard enough that the both of you went falling to the floor. You landed wrong on the arm he’d been holding too tightly and it twisted as your weight bore down upon it, but you didn’t give yourself any time to acknowledge the pain that shot through it. You rolled over and back onto your feet and then sprung towards your purse. 

“You little--” Seever hissed and he clambered onto his feet to try and follow you. You grabbed your purse and dug your injured hand through the contents-- ignoring the pain that lanced through your wrist-- and had just grabbed your phone, when-- 

“Is everything alright in here?” Mary Margaret asked from the entrance. “I saw the lights were still on, Charlotte, and I-- oh.” Her eyes landed on Seever, the cart of books you’d both knocked over in the struggle, and probably the ring of red around your throat from his hands. “Are you alright?” she asked and her voice turned indignant as she looked first at you and then at Seever. It seemed having another person there hadn’t been part of Seever’s plan. “Should I call Emma?” 

“Yes,” you said loudly. “Please. Please call Sheriff Swan.” 

“I don’t think we need that,” Seever said a moment later when he finally found his voice. His face was a barely held together mask of fake politeness. “It was just a disagreement--” 

“I want the Sheriff here,” you told Mary Margaret firmly. “I want to press charges. He assaulted me--” 

“I did no such thing,” Sever said quickly. He shot you a look that clearly told you to shut up, but you shook your head. “It was just a dispute between lovers,” he tried to tell Mary Margaret in a tone that was clearly supposed to ease her worries. “Things got heated--” 

“I want Sheriff Swan,” you repeated even more loudly. Your voice wobbled a bit from the emotions that had started to fill you. “I don’t want to be near this man any more, and I want to file a restraining order, and--” 

“Charlotte,” Seever barked. “You don’t mean what you’re saying--” 

“Like _hell_ I don’t!” you yelled back at him. Mary Margaret had already pulled out her cell phone and begun to punch the numbers into it. Seever wasted no time in his haste to head for the door. 

“You can’t leave--” Mary Margaret began, but Seever shouldered her out of the way and did just that. She raised her phone to her ear and looked back at you. You shook your head. Let him go. Where was he going to hide? The town was too small for him to stay out of sight for long, and it wasn’t like he was going to leave Storybrooke either. His entire life was set up here. Sheriff Swan would find him later. “Hey, Emma,” Mary Margaret said after a moment when it was clear Emma had picked up. “There's a situation at the school’s library. Do you think you can come over here? We need the Sheriff. Oh, no, I’m fine! It’s the librarian. There was a confrontation between her and Ryan Seever.” There was several moments of silence and then, “Yeah, that’s fine. Bring Henry too. We’re going to wait here.” She hung up a moment later and looked up at you. “Are you alright?” 

While she had spoke on the phone you had sunk into the chair behind your desk. Your knees were too weak to hold you up and you felt like you were going to collapse if you didn’t sit down. “I’m…” You trailed off. You couldn’t lie and say fine, not after what she’d witnessed. “I think I need to go to the hospital,” you told her and held up your hurt wrist. “I landed on it wrong in the scuffle. I think I might have sprained it or broken it or… I don’t know, but I think I need to see a doctor.” 

Mary Margaret nodded. “Emma won’t mind driving us, I’m sure,” she told you kindly. She stepped further into the room and came to perch on the edge of your desk. “Do you… would you like to talk about it?” 

“No,” you told her. You looked at her for a moment before you gaze dropped. You’d heard all the drama that had been surrounding her lately, though you hadn’t gotten involved. There had been that whole mess where everyone had thought she’d murdered David Nolan’s soon to be ex-wife, but then she’d shown up alive and things had gone to crazy town soon after. You’d barely had enough time to say a few words to Mary Margaret whenever you saw her in the hallway, so this was the first time you’d really spoken to her in probably two or three months. “Not really. Sorry.” 

“That’s fine!” she said and it sounded like she was trying to sound reassuring. “I’m sure it hasn’t sunk in for you yet.” 

“I broke up with him,” you blurted after silence descended once more. You felt compelled to talk about it with someone, and who knows how long the two of you had to sit here to wait for the Sheriff. Mary Margaret looked at you with surprise in her gaze before it melted away to patient attention. “I texted him this morning and broke things off. I didn’t want to tell him to his face, because… well, he’s always been prone to violence.” 

“I see,” she replied. “I’m sorry this happened. Whatever the reason you broke up with him-- and it sounded like whatever reasons those were, they were good if you already knew he was prone to violence-- didn’t give him the right to hunt you down and assault you.” Her voice took on more and more indignant rage as she spoke each word. “Emma will be here soon, and she’ll help you to handle this. I promise if I see him around here again I’ll be quick to call to report him.” 

“Thank you,” you told her and your voice wobbled a bit from emotion. “Really. I… I appreciate it, Mary Margaret.” She smiled at you and reached out to pat you gently on your uninjured arm’s shoulder. 

“What’s going on?” Emma asked as she walked in. Henry trailed not too far behind her. It only took several minutes to explain the situation to the Sheriff and then she was in agreement. “That’s not gonna fly,” she told you. “I’ll handle the situation. You want a restraining order, I take it?” You nodded. “Alright. We can do that.” 

“I have to go to the hospital,” you told her. “Would you mind giving me a ride? I, well, I don’t have a car. I usually just walk everywhere.” 

Emma nodded. “Yeah, of course, come on. I can give you a ride.” She turned and headed to leave the library right after, so you grabbed your things and hurried to follow. You locked up the library and then trotted along after Mary Margaret and Emma. Henry slowed down so he could walk beside you. 

“I’m glad you’re not with him anymore,” Henry told you. You looked around at him in shock and blinked owlishly. “He’s a bad guy.” 

“Oh?” you asked. You hadn’t been under the impression that Henry had ever had a chance to meet Ryan Seever. It just didn’t seem like Regina ran in the same circle as Seever, and she definitely wouldn’t want her adopted son near him. “I didn’t realize you know him.” 

“I don’t,” Henry replied. “But I’ve read about him.” You must have looked confused enough, because he elaborated without having to be asked. “He’s in my book,” he told you. “He’s Bluebeard.” 

“That fairy tale book?” you asked and Henry nodded. “I’ve never heard of Bluebeard.” 

“It’s a more obscure one,” Henry said as your group reached Emma’s yellow Volkswagon. “And it’s not very happy, but it ends good for you.” He screwed up his face like the thought of the tale was unsettling. 

“Who am I in it?” 

“The bride who outsmarted him,” Henry told you. “You can’t remember though, ‘cause of the curse. It made you lose all your memories, including the ones about your One True Love and his daughter.” You looked even more confused and opened your mouth to ask more, but that was when Emma placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her in surprise. 

“Are you talking about that book?” she asked and Henry nodded. She looked at you like _kids, am I right?_ You just smiled in response. Kids did happen to have wild imaginations sometimes. “Let’s go,” she said. “I can take you to the hospital and then go handle the paperwork for the restraining order. You’ll just have to come by tomorrow and give an official report and sign everything.” 

“Thank you,” you told her. “For all of this.” You really meant it. You’d never really had a chance to speak with Emma before, but she seemed like a good person. You already felt safer knowing she was on your side. 

“No problem,” Emma said and that was the last of that. You slid into the car and the drive to the hospital was uneventful. Mary Margaret asked if you needed a ride home after, but you waved her off. You could call William to pick you up. You’d probably go stay with him for a few days until things settled down. Mary Margaret and Henry waved from the windows as they pulled away, and Emma gave you a nod as she started the car back up. You waved with your good hand before you headed into the hospital. 

Three hours later found you with a splint on your wrist and in William’s truck headed toward his house. William kept shooting you strange looks as you drove, but you remained quiet for most of the ride. You’d given him the briefest of explanations over the phone an hour ago and told him you’d tell him the rest once you got to his place. Posey was already waiting on the porch when you both pulled up. She hurried down the steps and towards your side of the truck to wrench the door open. “Oh, your wrist,” she said and reached out as if to touch it before she pulled her hand back. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” 

William was patient as Posey set you up in the guest bedroom next to her own. He leaned against the doorway and watched the both of you, his lips pressed into an unhappy frown. He didn’t crack until Posey was done giving you some of her own clothes to use as pajamas and had promised to take you to your apartment first thing in the morning. “How long had this been going on?” he finally asked when you seated yourself on the edge of the bed. Posey hovered nearby and wrung her hands worriedly. 

“Which part?” you asked him without meeting his gaze. William entered the room fully and went to lean against the dresser across from your perch. You looked up at him to find that his frown had increased in intensity. “The part where I agreed to date Seever because of father, or the part where Seever emotionally and physically abused me?” 

William didn’t look amused, which you figured he wouldn’t. You weren’t amused by the situation either. Mostly you were miserable and alone, feeling as if your life had been thrown on its ear. You sighed when he made no move to answer you, and replied, “Pretty much the entire relationship.” 

“That’s--” William broke off and furrowed his brows as he thought. “That’s _years_ , Charlie. This has been going on for _years_?” You nodded in reply instead of saying something aloud. You felt like your voice might wobble too much if you tried to speak at the moment. Tears were already threatening to break free from the careful hold you’d had on them all evening. William looked at Posey first and then at you. “I always assumed… well, I don’t know what I assumed, but I had thought there had to be something in Seever you liked, at least, in order to date him. I figured there was something the rest of us couldn’t see. I’d never thought that he could be blackmailing you into a relationship.” 

“I only found out last night,” Posey spoke up softly. “Charlotte told me, and that’s when she said she was going to break things off with him.” She came forward to seat herself next to you and wrap an arm around your shoulders. You allowed her to pull you into a half hug and settled your head on her shoulder. 

“Well,” William said after a moment of silence. “Whatever happens now, Charlie, things are going to be different. You don’t have to handle this alone. You shouldn’t have had to handle this at _all_ , but there’s no changing the past.” 

You smiled feebly at your older brother. “Thank you,” you told him. 

“We’ll speak with Father in the morning,” Posey said firmly. “He has to know this kind of thing isn’t okay.” 

“I’m going to ask Grant and Fiona if they’d like to go with us,” William said and you interrupted him before he could say more. 

“Do you mind if I’m the one to talk to Fiona?” you asked. She was your twin, and you’d never given her even a hint as to what was going on. You felt like you owed it to her to be the one to explain things to her. “I’ve never told her this and… I just want her to hear it from me.” 

“Sure,” William agreed quickly. “Of course.” 

“I think sleep will do you good after,” Posey replied and got to her feet. William headed toward the door and she slowly followed him. “Why don’t you text Fiona, and then get some sleep? We have a busy morning ahead of us tomorrow.” 

“Alright,” you told them. You kept your flimsy smile up until Posey shut the guest bedroom’s door behind her and then you allowed it to fall. You wasted no time in calling Fiona and you explained the situation to her awkwardly over the phone. She seemed angry that she hadn’t caught on either, and promised to be there tomorrow when you all went to Father’s house. 

“I’m so fed up with his nonsense,” Fiona told you almost thirty minutes later once everything had been talked about and explained. “Father is always trying to make it seem like this is a dictatorship, as if we have to follow his every word like it was law and we’re not allowed to have a thought of our own in our heads! It’s why I moved out at seventeen, you know.” 

“I know,” you told her gently. Fiona went on for another ten minutes, rambling and raving about how Father hadn’t changed from when you were all kids. Finally she seemed to catch onto your exhaustion and she told you she’d speak with you more tomorrow. You ended the call and set the phone down in your lap. You stared at it for awhile until the display dimmed and then turned black, and then set it on the end table next to the bed before you laid down atop the covers. 

It was a long while before you felt you could sleep. 

  
  


* * *

The next morning was explosive. Your father seemed to know what was going to happen as soon as he answered the door that morning. William had been attempting to unlock it when the knob flew out of his hands and your Father stood in the doorway. His eyes settled on you and his lips twisted into a fierce frown. “You went and ruined it,” he spat and headed toward the living room. Clearly it was all the invitation your siblings needed, because Fiona and William darted after him right on his heels, with you, Posey and Grant following along behind.

You had told Grant he didn’t have to come if he didn’t want, but he and Fiona had insisted. “We’re family,” he’d told you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “We stick up for one another. That’s what Fiona keeps telling me, anyway, since I don’t have any siblings of my own.” You had smiled up at him and wrapped your own arm around his waist before agreeing. You were family. Family stuck together. 

“She ruined it?” Fiona had just asked your father as soon as the last three of your group entered the living room. “You were the one who pushed her into this in the first place!” Fiona’s face was flushed with indignant rage. The two of you might not be as close as you once were in your youth, but you were both still protective of one another. You supposed that came with the territory of being identical twins and all. 

“I explained the situation to her,” your father replied angrily. “She was the one who agreed to date him. I didn’t _force_ her into anything.” 

“Oh, and the guilt trips about ruining the family?” William asked sarcastically. “That wasn’t forcing her into anything she didn’t want to do?” 

“Charlotte is an adult,” your father yelled. “She agreed to date Seever! Our family would have been destroyed if she hadn’t, not that that matters _now_. He’s already made it clear I’m not welcome in my own home or business and that he’ll be taking it away from me.” 

“Then start over,” Posey said simply. “You shouldn’t have to give up your own daughter in a backyard bargain to keep everything else.” 

Your father sneered at Posey. “I’m sure everything looks so simple to your eyes since only one of them works properly,” he told her furiously. “You were the one who caused the fire that started this whole mess--” 

“Whoa!” you and your siblings yelled instantly. What little color was in Posey’s face promptly fled and she sunk down weakly on the recliner in the corner. “What does the fire have to do with this?” you asked him. William and Fiona looked so angry that words weren’t coming to them at the moment. Grant looked confused, but also offended on Posey’s behalf as well. 

To be honest, your entire family never spoke about the fire if given a choice. It had been so many years ago, yet the grief still felt fresh whenever any of you thought about the loss of your mother and eldest brother Collin. The fire had been a horrible accident, and it was heartless of your father to try and blame Posey for it. It had originated from her childhood bedroom, yes, but that didn’t mean she’d done it. The fire department had said it’d been faulty wiring, something that would have been outside of Posey’s control. 

Posey hadn’t escaped the blaze unscathed either. The right side of her face had burn scars that would never heal, and it was mostly the reason she never opened up to outsiders. It had taken her a long time to become friendly with Grant once he’d married Fiona. Posey was polite and formal with anyone outside of her close circle, mostly because everyone gave her weird looks whenever they first saw the burns over the side of her face. She hated being treated as something fragile and preferred to stay out of social functions around town because of it. 

“The fire is the cause of all of this,” your father growled out. “It’s the reason we became bankrupt and lost almost everything. It’s the reason Seever even had to bail us out of anything.” 

“The fire happened when we were kids!” Fiona yelled. “How does that explain how Seever blackmailed you into giving him your daughter’s hand?” Fiona said the last part with a trace of disgust that gave away what she thought on the entire matter. It was truly barbaric to practically sell one of your own children to get out of a situation such as this. 

“The money didn’t all drain away instantly,” your father replied. “It happened slowly over the years as I tried to make up the money we’d lost because of it.” There was a flash of confusion in your father’s eyes, as if he had only just realized it didn’t all add up either. He wasn’t the kind of man who would admit it, however, so there was no real way of knowing for sure. 

William shook his head. “It still doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Of course it doesn’t!” your father yelled. “You’re all children! You don’t understand the way business works--” 

“I happen to own my own business,” William yelled right back, “and I didn’t have to sell my sister to get it!” Which was true. William had worked a lot of hard labored jobs and saved up money until he could buy his own fishing boat. He was selling his loads to a large company in another city and making a pretty penny while doing it. He was probably the most successful out of all of you. 

Your father snapped his mouth closed at that and glared at his son. Silence reigned for several long moments while everyone stared at your father, and he looked at each of you in turn. His eyes landed on you last. “You’re so selfish,” he sneered. Your siblings made a move as if to speak, but your father continued before they could. “You only thought about yourself. You didn’t think about the rest of us when you broke things off with Seever.” 

“I’m selfish?” you asked and your tone must have shown your shock over the words. “ _You’re_ the one who forced your daughter into a relationship with a despicable man she hates. A man, I would like you to know, who physically and emotionally abused me at every turn and made me fear for my life. A man who used fear to control me and keep me in a relationship thinking there was no way out. _I’m_ the one who’s selfish?” 

“There’s only one selfish person I see in this room,” Posey said for the first time since she’d fallen silent several minutes ago, “and he’s the patriarch of this family.” Shocked silence fell as all eyes turned to Posey. Some color had returned to her face and her hands were clenched tightly in her lap. Her eyes burned as she stared your father down. He looked back at her with his mouth partially open as if her words had punched him right in the gut. 

“I think we’re done here,” Fiona said. She got to her feet and held a hand out for her husband to take. She walked around your father and he had to step aside to make room for her larger size because of the baby bump. “You obviously think you did nothing wrong, and that’s not the kind of outlook I want around my future child.” She exited the living room and you could hear them leave through the front door a moment later. 

Posey got primly to her feet and left without another word. It seemed she’d said all she wanted. William came to stand next to you and looked at your face for his cue. You stared at your father with a frown on your lips until he looked at you. “I don’t know why I agreed to this in the first place,” you told him softly. “I shouldn’t have ever said it was okay, but for some reason I did. As it stands, it’s not okay anymore and it’s not something I’m going to tolerate any further. If you couldn’t save the family’s belongings without resorting to practically selling me to Seever to do it, then clearly it’s time to start over.” 

Your father’s lips pressed firmly together and he made no move to speak. His eyes were bright as he stared back at you, his chin tilted up a little as if to say he had nothing to be ashamed of. His conscience must be clear, because he didn’t look guilty at all for what had transpired. You held up your wrist and his eyes fell to it. You let it fall back to your side a moment later and waited for his gaze to shift back to your own. “I’m not going to be pushed around anymore,” you told him quietly, and then turned on your heel and left the room. 

William followed right behind you and had no parting words for your father. You locked and shut the front door behind you as you left your family home. William helped you open the passenger door to his truck and you slid inside. Posey must have caught a ride home with Fiona and Grant, because she was nowhere to be seen. 

“Let’s go pick up some stuff from your apartment,” William said as he got his truck to roar to life. “You can stay with us for a couple days ‘till everything dies down.” 

“Sure,” you agreed. For the first time in a very long time you felt weightless and like your worries were far off. Things would settle down, you reassured yourself. You weren’t going to be forced into a life of unhappiness and you could make your own decisions from here on out. Nothing was going to force you into a corner again. 

  
  


* * *

Jefferson showed up the day after you went back to your own apartment. It had been six days since you’d broken things off with Seever. So far, there had been no sighting of him and Emma had mentioned it seemed like he’d vanished. You were fine with that for now. Wherever Seever had gone, as long as he stayed away from you, you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to go on with your own life and not have to worry about him being in it anymore.

One minute you were sorting through books that had been turned in and needed to be reshelved, and the next Jefferson stood on the other side of your cart. You jumped when you realized he was there and stared at him with wide eyes. “When did you get there?” you asked as you placed your injured hand over your heart. Jefferson’s brows were furrowed and he stared intensely back at you. In the last few weeks of not seeing him you’d almost forgotten how serious he always looked. “Are you alright? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” 

You’d started to think you’d read the situation between the two of you wrong. Every time Jefferson showed up, you just felt like you both were so close even though to your own recollection you hadn’t ever spoken much to him in the past. There was something about his presence that calmed and soothed you. You liked having him around, and his disappearance had unsettled you. Perhaps you’d gotten the wrong reading from him and he’d vanished in hopes that you’d realize? But no, the look in his eyes right now reminded you why you felt like _something_ was there. 

“I’m sorry,” he told you. “I’ve almost gotten everything worked out. It looks like Swan is going to break the curse.” 

“The curse?” you asked and placed the book you’d been holding back on the cart. Your brows furrowed further as you studied his face. “Henry mentioned something about a curse,” you realized a moment later. “The other night when…” You trailed off and held your sprained wrist up. Jefferson’s eyes dropped to it and his mouth opened a little in startled horror. 

“What happened?” he asked and reached out to gently wrap his fingers around it. He didn’t jostle it too much with his grip, almost like he was scared he’d hurt it worse, and his eyes came up to look intently at you. 

“I…” You trailed off and bit your lower lip. “I fell,” you told him. His brows remained furrowed and he waited. The way you’d said the words it was clear there was more to it. “There was a fight,” you explained slowly, “and Seever…” 

“He did this?” 

“Yes,” you replied. The word felt awkward leaving your mouth. You hated having to explain to anyone what had happened. “I broke up with him. He wasn’t very happy.” 

“You broke up with him?” This seemed to shock Jefferson the most from the entire conversation. His eyes searched your own and his fingers idly traced patterns on your splint. You watched him with your own face scrunched up in confusion now. 

“Why the tone of surprise?” you asked with a small, weak smile. “He wasn’t a very good boyfriend, after all. Of course I’d eventually realize I’m better off without him.” 

“Of course,” Jefferson hurried to agree. His eyes still held a hint of surprise however. “I just… you’d been with him so long,” he explained. 

“Yes,” you replied. 

“The curse,” Jefferson muttered. You tilted your head a bit to the side and watched him closely. His own eyes were back to searching your face, intent and over bright. “You don’t feel compelled to be with him anymore.” He phrased it like a sentence, but it went up weird on the end, almost like he had asked it as well. 

“No,” you answered. “I don’t.” You waited a moment before you continued with, “I’m not sure why I let myself be talked into the relationship in the first place. It’s all very… fuzzy now. Whenever I try to think of my thoughts back then, it’s all a muddled mess.” 

“You deserve better,” he told you vehemently. You blinked in surprise at how heartfelt it sounded. “You deserve someone who won’t ever hurt you.” For a moment an odd expression passed over his face and his hand finally dropped your own. He took a step back and seemed a bit more distant now. 

“You’re right,” you told him and his eyes met your own again. Were you imagining things, or did he try to hide a wince at your words? “I deserve someone who won’t ever hurt me _on purpose_.” Something in you possessed you to make sure to place emphasis on that last portion. Your eyes held his as you searched his gaze this time and your stomach fluttered. “This is real life. There’s bound to be people who will hurt me, but I want someone who won’t ever hurt me on purpose, or use their ability to hurt me to get me to do what they want.” 

Jefferson’s gaze dropped to the floor. His lips quirked up at the edges. “Even without knowing the situation,” he muttered, “you still somehow manage to reassure me.” 

“What’s that?” you asked because you felt like maybe you had misheard him. His eyes came back up and the smile stayed as he shrugged. He took another step back and tilted his body toward the door. 

“I should go,” he told you. 

“You only just got here!” You took a step to follow him but he had already retreated further. You attempted to keep the disappointment out of your voice. You hadn’t seen him in weeks! He’d barely been here for five minutes, and already he was going to leave. “Don’t you want to get a new book? It’s been awhile since you got one.” 

“I don’t have much time for reading right now,” he told you as he paused in the entrance. “I have to work harder so that you don’t have to suffer anymore.” Without another word-- or even a little bit of explanation-- he turned on his heel and strode out. You watched him go and furrowed your brows as the confusion hit you. What did that mean? You couldn’t quite make any sense to the words or the feelings behind them. What was he working on that would help with your situation? 

“Oh drat,” you said and snapped your fingers as you realized you’d forgotten to ask if he had a cell phone. It would have made getting into contact with him so much easier! You’d told yourself you’d ask next time you saw him. It must have slipped your mind because of your excitement over seeing him again. Next time, you promised yourself. Next time you’d definitely remember to ask. You were still a bit confused an hour later when Paige showed up. “You look sad,” she said as she traipsed into the library. She set the book down that she was currently reading and pulled herself up to sit on the edge of your desk. You shot her a look, but she decided to ignore it. She kicked her feet a little on the side of your desk as she waited for your reply. 

“A little,” you admitted, “but only because I haven’t seen you in a few days!” 

Paige perked up and grinned at you. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve been going straight home. I’ve got a lot of homework lately!” She slid down off your desk and seated herself catty corner to it after she’d pulled up a chair. She pulled out a notebook and set it down before she grabbed a pencil next. “I figured I could do some of it here with you! My parents are supposed to be home late, so I can’t go straight home.” 

“Well,” you said and went back to sorting the books you’d been in the middle of organizing. “I wouldn’t mind the company.” The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful, though the warmth in your chest from Paige’s presence lingered long after she was gone. 

  
  


* * *

The next day was Saturday-- your favorite-- and found you getting groceries first thing. You bumped into Mary Margaret and she looked up at you in surprise. “Oh,” she said and smiled. The smile looked a bit tense, but you didn’t question it. “Hello, Charlotte.”

“Hi,” you replied and even smiled back. “How are things?” 

“Well, things are… they could be better,,” she said. “I’m not in jail now, but Henry has fallen sick... How are you? You haven’t been bothered, have you?” 

“No,” you said. “Actually, Seever vanished. I haven’t heard from him at all and he hasn’t kicked my father out of his house yet, so… I suppose everything is going fine for now. Henry’s sick, you said?” 

“Yes, he’s… he fell sick last night.” She scrunched her face up as she thought over it. “He’s in the hospital right now, and Emma is with him,” Mary Margaret said on the tail end of a sigh. 

“I hope he gets better,” you said as you headed towards the cashier. Mary Margaret followed along behind you. “Are you going to go back to the hospital to be with them?” 

“I think I might go to Granny’s after this,” she said as you both got into line together. “I haven’t had a chance to eat since yesterday, not after everything that’s happened.” 

“Oh,” you replied and nodded your head as if you understood. “That’s a good idea. It’s not good to skip too many meals. Have to keep your strength up and all that.” 

Mary Margaret smiled. The rest of the time passed easily enough as you got your groceries and then waited to walk out with her. Mary Margaret was sweet, and you’d never found anything wrong with her. The two of you weren’t friends, but you weren’t strangers either. Friendly acquaintances probably described you best. You said goodbye and told her to keep you informed on Henry as she made her way in the opposite direction of your apartment. You hurried home so you could put your things away before the ice cream you got could begin to melt. 

Lunch was a simple thing. You liked to prepare nice lunches on your Saturdays and today was no different. You meandered around your kitchen as you made the meal, cleaning this and listening to the radio as you went about your day. You had just pulled out the casserole dish from the oven when you heard something behind you. It sounded like your door had opened, but that wasn’t possible because you hadn’t given a spare key out to anyone. 

The thought didn’t even pass through your head to drop the dish before you went to look. You glanced into the hallway to find that your front door was wide open. “What in the world,” you muttered as you got a creepy sensation along the back of your neck. You were sure you had closed that when you’d gotten home earlier. You went back to the kitchen to set the dish down and take off your oven mitts, but stopped in the entrance when your eyes looked into the living room and found Seever seated calmly on your couch. 

You opened your mouth to speak when a wall of light seemed to _appear_ out of nowhere and washed over the room. Your mouth remained open as your head filled with… memories? All of a sudden you had another life inside your head and your fingers went limp. The dish fell out of your hands and smashed on the floor, splattering hot food everywhere along with some glass. It even landed on your legs but you didn’t notice, too intent on staring with wide, horror filled eyes at Seever. 

No, not Seever. “Bluebeard,” you whispered in horror. 

Seever-- Bluebeard-- looked just as surprised by the memories that had flooded his own head. His eyes latched onto you and he stared hard as he slowly got to his feet. You took a step backward and slipped in some of the food, so that you had to catch yourself hard against the counter in the kitchen. “Well,” Bluebeard said as a slow smile curled his lips. “Look what has happened.” 

No words escaped your lips. They were numb and it felt awkward to even move them a little bit to suck air harshly into your lungs. You tripped a bit more as you tried to step away, but your legs were shaking and you felt too numb to move. _Move,_ you screamed at yourself. _You have to move!_ You hadn’t felt this frozen in fear since… not since you’d found Bluebeard’s previous wives dead and dismembered in his estate. 

For the first time in possibly two decades your real name fell from someone’s lips. “ (Y/N), we meet again.” Bluebeard’s smile stretched into an even larger one. Dark humor glinted in his eyes as he watched you.

“This has to be a nightmare,” you whispered in growing horror and stomach churning dread. 

Bluebeard’s lips split into a wider smile. He looked different in this world. He wasn’t quite as old and large as he once was, though he was by no way a small man here in Storybrooke. He took another step toward you and you took one to the side toward where the front door would be. 

“Please,” you whispered towards the ceiling as if some God would hear you and answer you. “Please, let this be a nightmare.” 

“It’s not,” Bluebeard told you in a cold, mocking voice.


End file.
